All Torn Down
by Obake
Summary: Draco's world has been turned upside down, and he is left searching for a ray of light.
1. A Broken Hallelujah

****

Summary: Draco's world has been turned upside down, and he is left searching for a ray of light. "So many facets to admire, time prohibits our naming them all!"--The Daily Prophet. SLASH

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: This fic is not for anyone under 15 years, unless you have an amazing level of maturity (like my sister, Farseeker—check out her fanfiction, 'Harry Potter and the Power of Will'!). Nor is it for homophobes. The story will contain slash (male/male romantic pairings), het, rape, torture, psychological manipulation and torture, and coarse language. If there's anything there you absolutely can't stand, please don't read (can't believeI just said that).

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

All Torn Down: A Broken Hallelujah
    
    ....

Maybe I've been here before:

I know this room, I've walked this floor,

I used to live alone before I knew you.

I've seen your flag on the marble arch,

Love is not a victory march;

It's so cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

.....

Maybe there's a god above

And all I ever learned from love

Was how to shoot at someone who out-drew you

And it's not a cry you can hear at night,

It's not somebody who's seen the light,

It's so cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah. 

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.

--From _Hallelujah_, Ó Leonard Cohen; Rufus Wainwright

As the Hogwarts Express clacked steadily across the country, Draco Malfoy stared out the window of his compartment, absently toying with the lip of his left sleeve. He started at the sound of the carriage door being slid open, and his head swung around to see who was there. His lip curled.

'Oh, no special carriage for poor little Potter and his friends?' he sneered. 'It must be so hard for you, having to find a seat with the rest of us.'

Behind Harry's shoulder, he saw the Weasel's face go red with anger. He could almost see Mudblood's hand restraining him, although she looked furious, too. Potter glared at him coolly before shaking his head and pushing the door closed. Draco sat back with a barely perceptible sigh of relief.

'Chicken,' he muttered, but his heart wasn't in it. He fiddled with his sleeve for a few moments longer before giving in and pulling the cloth right back so he could glare at the thing on his wrist.

Gods, but it burned. He almost wished Harry had decided to sit in here, just so he didn't have to think about it. Although that would have led to a fight, and Draco wasn't in the mood at the moment.

Crabbe and Goyle had spotted the food trolley going by ten minutes ago, and they wouldn't be back any time soon. Draco glanced at the mark again.

Oh, the hell with it. Draco stood suddenly and shoved the door aside. He might as well go and follow the trio. With any luck they'd hex him to the point of oblivion, and he wouldn't have to think until they reached school.

The three of them looked up as Draco entered the carriage, and their Oh-Gods-not-bloody-Malfoy expressions slotted smoothly into place. Ron reached for his wand automatically.

'Get out of here, Malfoy,' he grated. Draco stared at him impassively, dislike stirring inside him like that damn Nagini when she was hungry.

'No, I don't think I will. It was a relatively free country last time I checked.' He sat opposite them, never taking his gaze away from the Weasel. Oh yes, and what a fitting morsel for the wretched snake...

Ron's knuckles whitened against the wood of his wand. 'I _said_—' 

Hermione placed a calming hand on his shoulder almost absent-mindedly. 'Why are you here, Ferret?' 

Draco's hackles rose at the nickname, but he kept himself under control. He forced himself to smile at her as he watched Harry through his peripheral vision.

'Well, _Mudblood_, when two people love each other very much...' he started, and was gratified with a scowl from her that spoke of raging storms.

'Stop acting like Goyle,' she snapped. 'Even you aren't that dense.'

Draco could almost feel himself going pale. It took every ounce of self control he had not to whip his wand out and turn her into a toad. 'I came here,' he said, his voice set with steel, 'because I was bored.'

She shrugged dismissively. Silence reigned for a while in the carriage. Harry, Draco noticed, hadn't taken his cool gaze from him since he'd entered. Draco frowned slightly. Something had changed in him since last year. 

__

Diggory died and Voldemort's back, you twit. It's the same thing that changed you...

The unrelenting gaze irked him. He needed to prod Potter into doing something...Draco stared at the ceiling. A slow smile transformed his delicate features.

'So...nice holidays?'

Weasel's eyes narrowed. 'Why are you asking?'

Draco shrugged. 'Just making conversation. It's something wizards with breeding learn.' He glanced from Ron to Hermione. 'Did you two spend much time together?' His eyes rested on Granger. 'Spend much time around your boyfriend's Hole?'

Ron jumped up, his face almost as crimson as his hair. 'It's Burrow, you foul-mouthed little skunk—'

'Ferret,' Draco corrected him lazily.

'—And there is nothing going on between us!'

Granger hadn't moved from her seat, having frozen as soon as he'd spoken. Draco thought he saw something wet sparkle in her eyes as Ron finished. He smirked. _The match-breaker strikes again!_

And there it was. He'd barely caught it, but there was a flash of anger in Harry's eyes.

'Oh, come on, Weasel,' he drawled. 'Everyone saw you two trying to play cat and mouse last year. It really was pitiful.' He paused, his smirk widening slightly. 'So, have you kissed yet?' His eyes widened as he heard Granger gasp. 'Or has it gone even further...?'

Ron forgot all about his wand. His fist blurred as it rammed into Draco's face.

'Ron!' Hermione cried.

Draco lifted a finger to his lips tentatively. Its tip was red when he brought it away. He looked at Hermione through the pale strands of his fringe. 'Shocked, Granger? Worried that your pet Weasel might have actually hurt me? Don't. This is nothing. You have no idea what true pain is like, little mudblood.' His eyes narrowed cruelly. 'But you will. When Voldemort gets yo—'

'_Stupefy_!' Harry's voice cracked suddenly. His wand was pointed at Draco's chest, and his eyes were blazing.

Draco fell back, a half-smile curving over his face.

When Draco came to, the carriage was empty, though he could still feel the train's motion beneath him. The blood had dried on his lips and as he sat up he ran his tongue over the cut, trying to lift as much as possible. He could hear a teacher's voice calling up the corridor for students to get ready for their arrival. He staggered back to the carriage where Crabbe and Goyle waited, having sated their gastronomical desires some time ago.

'Where were you?' Goyle asked as he entered the compartment. Draco shook his head.

'Don't ask. Just don't.'

The boy shrugged boorishly and watched with a blank expression as Draco hoisted his trunk. He stared at the pair with a revulsion that he barely bothered to disguise. It wasn't as though it would register with them, anyway.

_Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dumber,_ he thought. _God give me strength._

'The train will be stopping soon,' he said slowly, hoping the message would sink in within ten minutes, which was about the time he judged they had left. 'You should get your things ready.'

The pair must have really studied over the holidays. They made it out of the carriage in seven minutes.

The Sorting Ceremony was more subdued than Draco remembered. As each first year went under the Hat, there was an almost tangible tension in the air. Every time the Sorting Hat announced, 'Slytherin!', there was a group sagging in the other three tables, and even among some of the teachers. Draco scowled. Slytherin may have a bad reputation, but this was sheer idiocy. He'd seen plenty of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs at the Dark Lord's gatherings; even a few Gryffindors. Yet most believed that the only darklings among them were from Slytherin. They had no idea what a delicate lie that was.

Dumbledore rose to give his traditional speech, which was shorter and less merry than anything Draco had heard from the old man before. He must have been hearing exactly what Voldemort had got up to during the break. His gaze shifted to Snape, whose eyes were black pools. Draco shuddered and stared down at the table.

Finally the end of the Ceremony, and the one part of it that Draco could ever actually allow himself to enjoy, came: the singing of the Hogwarts anthem. If he plugged his ears and closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was the only one singing. He had adapted the song to a waltz he had heard once, long ago, and whose tune had stuck in his mind with the tenacity of a postal stamp to its envelope.

It was with a shock that he realised everyone else had finished well before him. Damn Weasley twins weren't around to cover him with their awful dirge! He felt his face flame, fully aware that he had an unusually sweet voice for a boy his age. Nevertheless he finished with a flourish and a smirk. No one would care if he smirked. There was nothing new about a Malfoy showing off. He glared particularly at three bulging sets of eyes across from him at the Gryffindor table.

When they were dismissed, Pansy Parkinson hurried to his side--after elbowing Crabbe away. Draco groaned inwardly; she had been batting her eyes since they'd sat down. She smiled at him as they paced with the rest of the serpentine crowd towards their common room. He merely glared. 'What?'

'Aren't you looking forward to sharing another class, Draco?' Her eyes sparkled with fake adoration as he paused in shock, receiving a bang on the leg from a first-year's trunk for his trouble.

'Ow! Damn. Say _what_?' he hissed through his teeth as he rubbed his leg. She giggled.

'Weren't you listening to Dumbledore?'

'I find very little reason to pay attention to that fool.'

Pansy nodded as though digesting a profound truth. 'He said that Magical Healing has been made compulsory this year. Even if it means you have to give up one of your other subjects to fit it in.' Her eyes widened slightly. 'They've never been so strict before, have they?'

'I wouldn't know; I've only been here the past four years.'

'Well, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, except that...'

'Except that what?'

She wrinkled her nose. 'They've put us with the Gryffindors.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'Probably hoping some of that goodness will rub off on us.'

The corridor was suddenly filled with the sound of Pansy's high-pitched, wheezy laughter. Draco shuddered. If there was anything worse than her empty-headed giggling, it was a full-on laugh. He gritted his teeth and ploughed on through the crowd, hoping to get away.

No such luck; she'd caught up with him again in a few paces. 'Still,' she murmured; 'I bet you'll do really well in Healing, with those beautiful hands of yours...'

She moved to take hold of one of said hands, but Draco flinched away. Pansy looked hurt, though she took the hint. They didn't say anything more until they reached the Slytherin common room, and even then it was merely a curt 'Good night' from Draco as he stalked to the boy's dormitory.

Draco's trunk thudded at the foot of his bed and he flung himself headlong onto the mattress. He flicked the curtains around him shut and stared at the bedstead for a long moment, fighting a stinging sensation in the corner of his eyes. It didn't work.

_Oh for God's sake, give it up. It's just another school year, it's not as though you haven't worked out how to survive them by now..._

The tears rolled down his face unchecked. Draco bit savagely into his pillow to keep anyone else from hearing his sobs.

Draco's head shot back from the pillow. He gasped for air. How long had he lain like that? He might have suffocated....he found himself wondering whether that would have been so bad, and shook himself. It was important not to think like that. 

It was morning. He picked up his wand and padded to the common room. No one else was awake yet, so he sat in front of the fireplace, muttering a few words with his wand pointed at the hearth. Flames rose up, flickering and golden, and he watched their complex, twisting dance contentedly for a few moments, until the door to the girl's dormitory opened and Pansy slipped into the room. She glanced down at Draco bemusedly as she walked over and sat down beside him. 'What happened to your robes?'

Draco blinked and looked down. The cloth covering him was crumpled and twisted. He shrugged. 'I went to sleep without changing.' He tapped his robes with his wand and muttered a quick spell to smooth the fabric. 'Better?'

She nodded. 'Much. Quidditch is coming back in this year. They're holding try-outs for every position because so many of the players have graduated now.' She looked sidelong at him. 'You'll be trying out for Seeker, won't you?'

He nodded without really paying much attention to her. Of course he'd try out for Seeker. He'd get it too; no one else had the nous to believe they could beat the mighty Gryffindor Potter. Well, they'd see...

'Draco, are you all right?'

'Hmm?' he looked up. 'Why?'

'You're...different this year. Nicer to me, for one thing.' Her mouth curved in what she probably thought was an arch smile. 'I'm not sure that I really like it.'

'Masochist,' he said absently.

'Only yours,' she said in an overly sweet tone that made him wince mentally. 'But really, you are all right, aren't you?' She tried to place a hand on his arm and he pulled away from her. 'You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?' He just stared at her uncharacteristic, apparently genuine concern. Pansy leaned towards him suddenly, peering at his mouth. 'How did you get that cut?'

Draco flinched away from her questing gaze. 'It's nothing. It doesn't matter.' He raised a finger to the cut instinctively, and the sleeve of his robe slipped down his arm. Pansy gave a low whoop when she saw what was on his wrist.

'He accepted you! He really did! Draco, I'm so proud.' Draco cringed; if she gushed any more she'd have to find herself a riverbed. The worst was she actually, actually meant it. 'You and the Dark Lord—you'll conquer the world one day!'

He grunted in a non-committal manner and Pansy frowned again. 'There really is something wrong, isn't there? Draco?'

The flames leapt in his brooding eyes for a long while before he answered: 'I'm sick of coming back here every year.'

Pansy nodded earnestly. 'I understand. You want to get out and really begin doing things, don't you? But it's all right. There are only a few years left, and then—'

'What time is it?' Draco cut her off, unable to stand any more of her vapid chatter.

'About two hours before breakfast. Why?'

He got up. 'I'm going for a walk.' He'd left the room and was twisting away through the halls before she could follow him.

Draco missed breakfast. He wasn't in the mood to tolerate the inane chatter that always seemed to surround the Great Hall on the first day of the term. He certain as hell didn't want to talk about his holidays. So when he was sure the dormitory was empty, he returned to get ready for the first class of the day and set off across the grounds, steeling himself to meet whatever ghastly challenges Hagrid had dreamed up for Care of Magical Creatures this year.

Hagrid was hauling a crate of something noisy away from his cottage when he spotted Draco heading towards him. 'Malfoy,' the half-giant huffed gruffly. 'Yer a bit early, aren't yeh?'

'Does it really matter?' _Do you really care?_

Hagrid's huge shoulders bunched together and he continued to haul the crate away.

_I thought not._

The big man swore as the box jumped out of his hands and bounced on the ground. Draco folded his arms primly. 'You really shouldn't use that language in the presence of students, sir.'

'Shut yer mouth, Malfoy, and make yeself useful. Help me with this thing.'

Rolling his eyes, Draco grasped the crate. He gasped, realising quickly why his teacher had been having so much trouble. It wasn't that the box was particularly heavy; simply that whatever was inside kept bouncing around with such force that it was hard to keep a hold.

'Ye Gods,' Draco breathed, fascinated in spite of himself. 'What _is_ it?'

'Yeh'll find out with the rest of the class when I open the box. Come on, we need ta get 'em away from any hidey-holes.' Hagrid manoeuvred them carefully towards an open space of lawn. Glancing up briefly, he saw something behind Draco's shoulder and drew in a deep breath.

'Harry, Ron, Hermione!' Draco jumped at the sudden volume of the man's voice. 'Hi!'

Draco gritted his teeth as he set the box on the ground and the Dream Team chorused their various versions of 'Hi, Hagrid'. 

'Well, if it isn't the noble Draco Malfoy, actually doing some decent work for once,' Ron said in a sarcastic imitation of Draco's own drawl as he turned around. 'But don't worry. You won't have to worry about doing something so common for a while, what with that pretty little voice of yours.'

Draco actually growled. 'Shut up, Weasel,' he rasped. 'Or I might decide to repay you for that little incident on the train.'

If looks could kill, they would both have exploded. Hagrid waved a hand between them hesitantly, almost as though he actually thought it might drop off. 'I'm not having fightin' in my class on the first day back, right? So whatever's happened, yeh can both just drop it fer now. Remember what Dumbledore said last year: we're only as strong as we're united.'

'Yeah, well,' Ron muttered, looking away. 'He's probably already joined the Death Eaters anyway.' Draco's nails bit nervously into the flesh of his left hand at that. Ron noticed, and must have thought he wanted to fight. 'Go ahead, Ferret. Give me a reason to smash you, and I'll—'

'Ron, just leave him.' They both jumped at Harry's voice. Ron looked at his friend incredulously.

'What? But he's—'

'We have better things to worry about.' Draco was uncomfortably aware of Potter's penetrating gaze on him. He exploded in frustration.

'Oh, for God's sake! It's a pretty poor day when I'm pulled out of a fight by the princely Potter!' He pushed past as the rest of the class caught up with them, being careful to knock Ron hard with his shoulder. Draco wove through the crowd to the back and turned back to watch the class, scowling. His eyes narrowed. Just how long had Potter been watching him?

Hagrid was explaining something to the class, and Draco tuned his voice out automatically. If there was anything important in the speech, he could learn by trial and error later. Or with Pansy. He shuddered at that thought, stealing a glance at her keen face nearer the centre of the group. She wouldn't admit it even under Veritaserum, but she really enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures.

The class craned its collective necks as Hagrid bent down to pry away the lid of the box. Draco, still curious, sidled around the edges of the crowd to get a better view. The lid came away suddenly, and something black streaked towards him at high velocity.

'Shit!' Draco yelped, clapping a hand to his stinging eye. 'What the hell was that?'

Hagrid straightened up as more of the things began to shoot out of the box in every direction. 'Yeh know, yeh really shouldn't use that sorta language in the presence of teachers, Malfoy.'

'Don't mess me about, Hagrid! What was that?' Draco could hear the Weasel and Mudblood giggling. _Damn, damn bloody damn._

'If yeh'd been listenin', yeh'd know we're lookin' at imps today,' Hagrid said impatiently. 'They're extremely fast little buggers, excuse my French, Madame Maxime's been teachin' me a little too much over the school break.' The class tittered at that. 'They're always lookin' fer somewhere ta hide, which means boys had better watch that they keep away from their trouser legs.' He said this in a slightly raised voice, to remind the class. Longbottom yelped.

'Too late, sir,' he said with a pained expression on his face.

'It'll work out how to get out pretty quick, Neville,' Hagrid assured him before turning back to Draco. 'Yeh've got ter catch one by the end of the lesson. Yeh'll be workin' with that imp for the rest of the year.'

'Brilliant,' Draco muttered. The same black streak rushed past him again and he leaped for it. To his own amazement, he caught it. 'Yes! _Ow_! Damn.'

'Malfoy, if you keep swearin' I'm going to put you on a detention.'

'The—' Draco fought to keep an automatic curse from leaving his lips. 'The _thing_ bit my thumb!'

'Poor ickle Drackie,' Ron snorted a few metres away. He'd already caught a little green monster. It complemented the colour of his hair quite well, and was contentedly pulling at tiny fistfuls on top of his head.

'Shut up, Weasel.'

'Ferret.'

'Muggle-lover.' Draco tried to concentrate. _Come on, you're the Slytherin Seeker, this should be simple compared to the Snitch!_ The streak was heading back towards him. He leapt again and was dragged along the ground for several metres. He saw the creature open its evil little mouth, and grabbed its overlong ears just in time. 'Try it and I'll pull them off,' he hissed. The imp began to chatter in a tiny, high-pitched voice that seemed to allow for a hundred syllables per second.

Hagrid was striding towards them. 'There's no need to treat 'em like that, Malfoy.'

Draco got up without releasing the imp's ears. 'If it's going to work with me, it's going to do it my way. That doesn't mean bitten thumbs, black eyes or grass stains.' He frowned. If he listened closely, he thought he could almost make out what it was saying.

'....letgoyastupidlittledickhead...'

'It's swearing at me!'

'I ain't surprised, the way yer treatin' it.' Hagrid firmly took Draco's hand away from the imp's ears. It stopped squeaking and glared at him. 

Draco waited silently until Hagrid had moved away from them before murmuring in a deadly tone, 'Try _anything_ and I'll squash you.' It poked its tongue out at him. Draco grimaced and looked around at the rest of the group. A few people were still chasing blurs, but most of the class had caught their imps and were now trying to cope with the little fistfuls of mania being so close. Draco raised his eyes to the sky. _Just one question,_ he thought. _Why...?_

He dropped the imp and it rushed back to the box. Draco turned around and began to walk away. He could hear shouts from the class behind him, but decided he really didn't care what they thought. Then he heard Hagrid's voice, growing louder, and he realised the half-giant must be running after him. The last thing he wanted at the moment was to be caught. Draco broke into a run. He fled to the castle.

Potions was the next lesson. Having quickly tired of skulking past other teachers and classes, Draco arrived a quarter of an hour before time. Snape looked up from a mass of crucibles and bubbling liquids as the door banged behind him.

'Early, Draco,' he commented.

'Sir.' Draco sat at a desk and waited. Snape poured something foul-smelling into the mixture and turned to watch the boy. Draco returned the gaze steadily. Finally Snape said, 'Since you're here you might as well get started. Open your book to page ninety-three and read the next four pages, then set everything up the way I have. You'll be making a Sleeping Potion. Make sure you bottle it carefully when you're done, because you'll be using these in Healing.'

Draco was almost grateful that the Potions Master hadn't pressed him. By the time the rest of the class arrived he was searching in a cupboard for a crucible and a jar of dried slugs. Half an hour later Draco set the bottled potion on Snape's desk.

'Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you mind bottling the Erumpent Exploding Fluid?' Snape indicated a pile of jars and a vat of muck on a bench to his right. 'The sixth years will be using it in the next session, and I'll never get the jars full in time with this rabble distracting me. Be careful to use gloves, because it sticks like—' There was an explosion behind him and he turned around, already snapping, 'Neville Longbottom! How many times do I have to tell you to add the slugs _before_ the newt eggs? Ten points from Gryffindor!' Snape stalked away, muttering.

As Draco picked up a jar, he thought he heard a Gryffindor mutter, 'Teacher's pet.' He ignored the speaker.

By the end of the lesson Gryffindor had managed to lose a further thirty points. Draco peeled the gloves from his hands as the other students filed out.

'Draco, a word, please.'

He turned to see Snape leaning against his desk, arms folded. 'Sir?'

'I hear you ran out of Hagrid's class. You're either much less intelligent than I'd given you credit for, extremely brave, or highly preoccupied.' Draco shrugged. 'I want you to know that if you ever try the same thing in one of my classes you'll have detention for the rest of the term and it'll be fifty points from Slytherin.'

'Is that all you wanted to say, sir?'

'No, actually it isn't. Pansy seems exceptionally worried about you. She seems to think something terrible happened to you over the holidays.' Snape cocked his head to the side. 'I just wanted to remind you that I'm your house supervisor. If there's anything you want to talk about, you can come to me.'

_Is that so, Two-face?_ 'I don't have anything to say, sir.'

'Then you may go.'

Quidditch trials were being held during lunch. Draco was the only one who offered to be Seeker, so he got the position by default. It didn't really surprise him, although he would have liked to have been able to test himself against someone. They said Potter was exceptional, but that didn't make perpetually losing to him any easier.

Crabbe and Goyle tried out with him. They each made Beater without too much trouble. While not particularly nimble on their brooms, the power with which they hit the Bludgers was astonishing, and it was reasoned that they could be trained which end of the pitch to direct the balls at. Draco chewed his lip in frustration. Did the two brutes have to follow him in _everything_?

Surprisingly, Madame Pomfrey wasn't the teacher of Magical Healing. Instead, when the class stepped into the room that had been set aside for the new subject, they were met by a tall, thin man who was perpetually rubbing his hands and murmuring to himself. He called himself Fletcher.

'Welcome, welcome,' he gasped, smiling toothily at the class. 'Your Sleeping Potions will be arriving shortly. I'm afraid we haven't any human patients as yet, although that may be rectified once the Quidditch season starts—' by some amazing feat of facial expression and flexibility, he managed to give the impression of winking at Potter and Draco simultaneously, '—so for now we'll read some preliminary information from your workbooks, and when the potions are here I'll demonstrate some simple procedures on a few imps who have met with, mmm, accidents during the day.'

The books were dry as dust and kept quoting sources and wizards Draco had never heard of. It was utterly impossible to understand for the most part--so of course, across the room, Granger was completely engrossed. At the top of the first page was a dictionary definition of healing, just in case they forgot: _the art of restoring a person or persons to health; of freeing them from pain, disease or anxiety_.

Draco looked at his hands. '_Freeing them from pain_'? He remembered gloomily what Pansy had said to him the day before, and knew she was wrong. He'd never do well in this class; he'd probably fail.

There was a knock at the door, and a trolley was wheeled in by a pair of sixth-years with long-suffering expressions on their faces. The potions, and the imps, had arrived.

The first patient was black, and wore a recognisably mean expression.

'This one won't require a potion. It's incurred some slight bruising about its ears, you see how delicate they are? Whoever was handling this one will have to be much more careful in the future.' Draco slumped in his chair. The little imp, whose eyes had been darting suspiciously about the room, caught sight of him. It opened its mouth wide and began to pour out a squeaky litany. Fletcher, quite unconcerned, reached for the trolley and placed a cork in the creature's mouth to stop the noise. It went cross-eyed in surprise. Draco snorted with laughter.

'While it is important to keep the patient as comfortable as possible during any operation,' Fletcher murmured, 'One must sometimes set...boundaries. It simply won't do to have one's concentration suddenly upset...is there something wrong Mr, uh, Malfoy?'

Draco's laughter died at the look on the professor's face. He had obviously heard a few things about the Malfoy name. 'No, sir,' he muttered.

'Very good then. Now, if you will watch carefully...'

Draco really did not want to go to dinner. But after missing the previous two meals, his stomach was beginning to make threats. He waited until most students had left the Great Hall before making his way to the Slytherin table. He was surprised to see Potter, Weasel and Mudblood sitting at the Gryffindor table. From the way Weasley was grabbing every morsel within reach, they hadn't been there long. Draco swept past them, scowling. He grabbed randomly from the Slytherin remains and stalked out without a word. He could eat in the common room.

Draco heard conversations being hushed as he entered. His eyes swept the room, and met the gazes of his classmates on every angle. 'Yes?'

'Are you...all right?' Crabbe rumbled in his ear. Draco glared at him.

'Of course.'

'Only,' Blaise Zabini said, 'Pansy's been saying all sorts of things...she's beside herself...'

'You weren't at breakfast or lunch either,' someone else volunteered. 'So we thought...'

'And there was that thing with Hagrid and the imp this morning...'

Draco looked around him again. Most of the Slytherins were leaning toward him, eyes alight with morbid curiosity. A few were looking at him with genuine concern, and he shuddered away from those quickly. A couple looked on the brink of sniggering at him. _How touching._

He backed away. Once outside, he spun and hurtled through the corridors. He could find somewhere else to eat. Somewhere else to sleep, for that matter. He wasn't going in there again.

It turned out that Pansy had been talking about their conversation that morning, about her suspicions that something had happened to him during the holidays and the cut on his lip. Rumours began to whisper throughout the school, some Ravenclaw dropped his father's name, and by the end of a month he was being brutalised by Lucius and had probably incurred some kind of brain damage, accounting for his moodiness. Draco couldn't walk down the hall without gaining at least five pitying looks from those around him. He found that he was actually beginning to enjoy his perpetual arguments with the Dream Team, to whom the rumours were only so much ammunition. At least they didn't bother to treat him like a piece of thin glass.

Thank Gods for Quidditch.

The first match of the season was against Gryffindor, in a week's time. Draco trained maniacally—it was an excuse to keep out of the castle and away from other people. And he was determined to beat Potter.

The day came. The stands were packed; the Gryffindors were screaming like a horde of wild beasts. So sure of victory. Draco sniggered.

A roar went up as the teams made their way onto the field. Madam Hooch stood in the centre and waited for them to take their positions before she blew the whistle. The brooms rose into the air.

'And it's Slytherin in possession, Chaser Larson speeding down the field there, doesn't look like anyone's going to catch him—' in place of Lee Jordan, a Hufflepuff boy was commentating. He looked extremely nervous. '—Gryffindor's Weasley seems to be catching up now, but no, Larson moves to score—and a wonderful block by Gryffindor's Keeper! Gryffindor in possession now, Weasley moving at a nice pace, dodges a Bludger—beautiful pass to Nat Denner—Denner passes back and they're moving up the pitch together, look out, Slytherins are catching up—'

Draco listened with half an ear as his eyes swept the field, searching for the Golden Snitch. It wasn't anywhere to be seen. Potter hovered a few metres above him on the opposite half of the field; he plainly hadn't seen anything either. Draco glanced back down at the other players as a roar went up from the Gryffindor crowd. They were screaming 'Foul!', and he could see Ron Weasley pulling himself back up onto his broom. Potter had dipped down a few feet and was yelling furiously. Not far away, Madam Hooch had flown up and was having a heated argument with Goyle. Draco swore. How could one person be so _stupid_? Although the look on Ron's face was one he would treasure for a long time to come.

'Free shot to Gryffindor, Weasley shoots, Slytherin try to block—no good—and—Yes!! GOAL TO GRYFFINDOR!'

__

Of course. Bloody Goyle. But Slytherin was soon back in possession and Draco turned his attention back to the Snitch, or rather to his lack of it.

'Gryffindor catching up to Slytherin fast—what's this? Gryffindor's Seeker has gone into a dive!'

Draco plunged after Potter, squinting ahead of him to catch a glimpse of the Snitch.

_What the hell?_

He pulled up suddenly, knowing it was a feint. Harry veered away and shot back up above the field.

'Move it, Malfoy!' Weasley's voice cracked as something red hissed past Draco's ear. He barely had enough time to get out of the way of Weasley's broom as it shot after the Quaffle. Draco propelled himself upwards, and was gratified to see Ron knocked by a Bludger hit by Crabbe a moment later.

'Gryffindor's Beater fields the Bludger excellently, knocks it back towards Slytherin—Beater Goyle fields and shoots it back—'

The Bludger hurtled upward at a sharp angle. Draco watched its trajectory and stiffened involuntarily when he saw it hit Potter in the chest. The Gryffindors screamed. Harry shot backward, but he righted himself quickly and resumed his position.

'LOOK OUT!'

Draco had forgotten about the other Bludger. It was only the commentator's frenzied cry that alerted him to the fact that it was pelting towards him. He swerved out of the way barely in time.

'Bludger misses Slytherin's Seeker by a hair—wait—yes—no, it's coming back around!'

Draco didn't have time to get out of the way. He bent low over his broomstick and prayed, letting out an explosive breath when he felt the Bludger breeze past above him. Then—he saw it, a flash of gold near the centre of the field. Draco shot toward the Snitch with a whoop of triumph.

'Slytherin's Seeker appears to have spotted something—Gryffindor's Potter follows him in a steep dive, and—yes! There's the Snitch!'

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw a black blur speeding his way. He veered quickly away to miss the Bludger, and Harry caught up to him. They were locked together, neck and neck...almost everyone in the stands was on their feet and howling. Draco nudged his broom forward through sheer willpower and stretched out his left hand. He felt a rush of excitement--he was going to do it! The Snitch was almost in his grasp.

Suddenly Potter's broom jerked forward and his hand brushed Draco's straining fingers as it shot out to snatch the Golden Snitch from him. Draco gasped and spun his broom away.

Draco paused before descending to the ground, breathing deeply to calm his jangling nerves. He swooped low and dismounted. The Gryffindors were howling like beasts again; they had their victory.

He didn't wait for the rest of his team to vent their disappointment on him. Draco stalked away from the field and didn't look back.

When Draco curled in a stony corner of the castle that night, his gaze rested on his left hand as his eyelids slid low. He stared first at his wrist, then at his fingers, until sleep caught up with him and threw him into chaos.

Draco dreamed he was surrounded by howling creatures, but he couldn't tell what kind. Sometimes he saw a feather, or a hint of fur. Four legs, two? Or six? He couldn't tell. Claws raking at his face, teeth and hot breath on his skin. He saw human faces, eyes and features he recognised but couldn't name, dancing in and out among the crowd. 

Draco turned to get away from them, and he saw a break in the crowd and a flash of gold far away. He began to run towards it. The beasts disappeared and he reached out, straining to touch the glimmer, but something was batting against him from behind. He turned again and a dark blur hit him in the face. Falling back screaming, he could only watch as the darkness spread around him. The gold was lost. The inky void shifted, until he could make out a snake-like face and a cruel smile he knew far too well. There was a green flash of light and Draco heard someone screaming his name....

The dream repeated itself until morning, and when Draco woke up the images were scratched into his mind with needle sharpness.

For the first time in weeks Draco ventured into the Great Hall when he knew the tables would be full. He winced as he entered; he'd forgotten how loud people got. He hurried to his seat between Crabbe and Goyle, and ate quickly, ignoring the stares and muttered comments of those around him. He was about to leave when the owls flew in. Draco watched a large tawny owl circle the room before dropping the envelope it carried into his hands. It immediately flew out again, and Draco knew it probably wouldn't pause to rest in the Owlery. It was his father's.

He stared at the Malfoy family seal stamped on the envelope, motionless. Pansy leaned toward him. 'He's been sending the same letter since last week,' she muttered. 'But he wouldn't drop it when you weren't in the room. Well? Are you going to open it?'

Draco shook his head slowly. 'No.' Later he would find a convenient fireplace in which to leave it.

Magical Healing wasn't going well. The class was studying reiki, an ancient Asian form of healing using energy from the hands. Until now they had been covering the history and theories behind it, but today Fletcher had decided to allow the students to put their knowledge into practice.

'Fortunately reiki uses harmonious energies to heal,' Fletcher murmured, 'Meaning that an injury per se is not required for the experiment to work. Reiki properly performed will result in a deep, inner restfulness in the patient and, when a patient is seriously injured, can be very useful in calming the person before an operation.'

_Not telling us anything we don't know already,_ Draco thought impatiently. _Get on with it._

Then the Professor said it. Those few, dangerous words. 'You'll be working in pairs.'

Draco was paired with Granger. She advanced on him with a mildly disgusted, resolute expression. Draco backed away nervously.

'Keep away from me, Granger,' he muttered, glancing about the room. Fletcher wasn't paying them any attention; he was deep in conversation with Neville Longbottom. Apparently the boy was doing amazingly well, he had certainly acquired the position of teacher's pet in short order. Potter and Weasley, having been paired together, were watching him carefully. The look on Ron's face couldn't have been darker if someone had taken to him with a pot of black ink.

'Oh, come on,' Hermione said, irritated. 'It's not as though I'm going to hurt you. Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible.' She reached out suddenly and Draco jumped back.

'Keep your filthy hands off me, Mudblood!' he snarled, brandishing his wand. He saw the Weasel crossing the room at high speed, followed by Potter, but he didn't care. He couldn't let her touch him. 'I'm warning you—'

'What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?' Weasel hissed, moving protectively in front of the Mudblood. 'Put that thing away!'

'Then call your bloody gorgon off!' Draco's eyes skirted back to Fletcher. He hadn't heard them; was still talking to his star pupil. _Bloody Gryffindors steal all the limelight._

Ron's face went white. 'You—'

'I mean it! I'll hex you both!' Ron's fists clenched, and Draco opened his mouth, ready to invoke a spell. A hand gripped the tip of his wand and turned it sharply away from the pair.

'Enough, Malfoy,' Potter growled. 'Hermione's just trying to do her work. What's your problem?'

Draco glared at him, breathing quickly. _Oh God, those damn eyes!_ 'You,' he breathed through clenched teeth. 'You are my problem.'

'Right.' Potter took a step forward. 'I'm sick of this. I want an end to it, Malfoy. If I'm the one you've got it in for, then it's easy.'

Draco looked at him steadily, not understanding. 'What do you mean?'

'A wizard's duel. Tonight, here at midnight.'

Draco stared at him uneasily, then nodded. 'All right. But—' He had a sudden idea. 'Come alone. No seconds.'

'_What_?' Weasley hissed.

Draco jabbed a thumb at Crabbe and Goyle in the corner. 'I won't bring them, if you don't bring _them._' He gestured at Ron and Granger. She clutched at Potter's arm.

'Harry, don't do it! He's—'

Potter shrugged her off him gently. 'Done,' he said quietly.

Draco actually smiled. Granger and Weasley would try to talk him out of it, of course, but Potter was a typical Gryffindor: as good as his word. 

'Good.' He glared at Hermione. 'You keep away from me.'

After dinner, Draco risked a quick detour into the Slytherin common room. He went straight to his dormitory, placed his wand in his trunk and got out again before anyone could speak to him. Draco went straight to the Healing room. He sat on Fletcher's desk, absently banging his heels against the blocky wood. He could feel the corner of the envelope in his pocket and grudgingly fished it out. He stared again at the seal. Draco hadn't been able to find a place to burn the letter—at least not anywhere he wouldn't be seen. Reluctantly he broke the seal and read the letter inside.

_Draco,_

Remember that you are still at Hogwarts for a purpose. Voldemort wants you to monitor the movements of Potter and Dumbledore. Report what you find back to me. If you have any opportunity to disrupt their schemes, proceed. Keep in close contact with Snape; if you are caught he'll be the one to help you.

May the Dark Lord's final ascendance be great.

Remember: Be a man. Be a Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy

The words glinted silver on the page, and Draco knew that if anyone else had read them, they would have appeared to be a normal, fatherly message to his son. He read the last line again with a sick feeling. His family's motto: _Be a man. Be a Malfoy_. What a stupid, stupid collection of words. They meant nothing. Nothing!

Draco tore the note up and shoved the pieces deep into his pocket, not wanting to leave them where they might be found. He steepled his fingers and stared gloomily at the toe of his shoe. What was he going to do about Potter?

He must have remained like that for hours, only looking up when the door opened and Potter stepped into the room. Harry closed the door quietly. His eyes narrowed when he saw Draco.

'Where's your wand?'

Draco slid from the desk, walking quickly towards him. 'I didn't bring it.'

Harry glared at him uneasily, but didn't back away. 'What now, then? Are you going to reduce this to a brawl?'

'No.' Draco took a final step forward, closing the distance between them. He hesitated only for a second; then moved swiftly. Draco's left hand cradled Harry's head as he moved in, pressing his lips against Harry's. He closed his eyes, afraid to see the immediate reaction. Potter's wand twitched automatically, but Draco's free hand slid down, interlocking their fingers and forcing him to drop it. As gently as he could, Draco nudged Harry against the wall. His hand shielded Harry from the cold hardness of the stone.

He should stop, he knew. Harry wasn't returning the kiss; he was trying to push Draco off with his free hand. But he didn't want to leave this sweet warmth. Draco parted his lips very slightly and ran his tongue along the line of Harry's mouth, searching for a soft spot, a way in. There was none.

_He tastes like Heaven._

At last Draco relented, opening his eyes slowly as he withdrew.

'Harry...'


	2. Lingering

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: The 15 Years Rule continues. Herein will be found: slash, het, mentions of rape and torture, coarse language and a lot of blood. If you can't handle all of that, get out now. I don't want to be responsible for lasting emotional or psychological damage.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:Badtz, ILLK, Ashedraven, Savannah, typical fangirl, S. Maldiva, Voodoo Daisuke, xfasciXnationx, emma-sama, Morien Alexander, taichi kuna, Whisper in the Soup, Britt (I know, I was a little concerned about that originally but if you look back through there are lots of little warnings—Draco's involuntary reactions to Harry, the way he obsesses over the eyes, and so on—that all add up if you look at them the right way.) Rose of Jupiter, Myr, Kallianah (Thanks—I know how you feel about spelling), badfaith, Kimagure, Juliana Black, Gwen (Believe me, Draco has some Very Good Reasons for his pain. Ron's just being Ron—he always was and will be a hothead; that's they way I love him—and you can't really say he was completely unprovoked. Remember that all of this was from Draco's POV: he doesn't hold a very flattering image of either Hermione or Ron.), Rilar Cray, Twilights Death, Saheen, Penelope-Z, lilly*potter, ~*Black Dreamz*~, Biz The Insane, Penpusher (I'm flattered you think that about the style. I haven't tried to emulate her apart from the Quidditch match—couldn't write it otherwise—but apparently that's the style I like. As for your comment about Draco—he's currently looking over my shoulder and congratulating himself for turning in such a wonderful performance.), Daemon Girl, Dawn, Prongs, CrystalStarGuardian, Megumi, Kcarke (Actually, Evil's one of my friends…But thank you. I'm glad I've managed to turn your head.), and pikaboo. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews; I'm amazed I got so many in the first week. I hope you like this next chapter half as much as the first. Doumo arigatou!

Thanks also to Farseeker, Min_1979, Kirsty and Crystal for beta-reading this, and to Alex for the free research. Without you this thing would never have continued to happen.

****

All Torn Down: Lingering

...

If you lingerest when I linger,

If thou tread'st the stones I tread,

Thou wilt stay my spirit's hunger

And dispel the dreams I dread.

Come thou, love, my own, my only,

Through the battlements of Groan;

Lingering becomes so lonely

When one lingers on one's own.

--From _Titus Groan_, by Mervyn Peake

The instant Draco stepped away from him, Harry snatched his wand from the floor, brandishing it.

'You--' he snarled. But Draco was gone.

Harry took a deep breath, wiping the moisture of Draco's tongue from his mouth with his sleeve. That hadn't been..._real_. It couldn't have been.

He remembered the strange, ghostly light in Draco's eyes as they opened. The way the light had died as it met Harry's own blazing irises. He shuddered.

Harry left the room as quietly as he had entered. He knew he would have to go after Draco. He felt a jab of frustration as he began to walk up the corridor. Why couldn't Malfoy just have been the arrogant, evil little bastard he, Ron and Hermione had come to know and...hate?

Harry jumped at the sound of a crash in one of the classrooms ahead of him. It was probably Peeves, but he began to run towards the sound anyway.

It was the Transfiguration classroom. Harry muttered '_Lumos_,' as he entered. He gave a low gasp as his wand shed its light on fallen desks and chairs, a dented blackboard, and a mass of torn sheets littered across the floor; and Draco, hunched in the far corner. Harry felt a shiver of horror roll down his spine. He was crying.

'Draco?' he whispered, reluctantly crossing the room and standing over the pale boy. 'What's wrong? Why--' Harry paused, licking his lips. 'Why the hell did you do that?'

Draco refused to meet his gaze. He looked as though he might choke on his tears. 'I wanted--wanted--'

Harry felt a sudden surge of impatient anger. 'What?' he spat. 'Got sick of all the fighting, did you, Malfoy? Decided you'd try screwing me instead?'

He instantly regretted the words as Draco recoiled from the blast of his anger. 'No!' the boy howled. 'I didn't--I wanted--I hoped--'

'Hoped what?'

'I hoped...' The rest of Draco's words were lost in a garble of sobs.

'I can't understand you, Malfoy,' Harry said impatiently.

'...hoped you might feel the same way....'

Harry froze. 'You...what?'

'Oh, for God's sake, how many times do I have to say it!' Draco cried. 'I've fallen for the mighty Harry Potter, all right? Leave me alone!'

Harry didn't leave, but he was silent for a very long time, watching Draco as his sobs began to diminish. 'How long?' he said finally.

'What?'

'How long have you...felt...this way?'

'Since late last year,' Draco said, more evenly now, though his shoulders were still shaking. 'After the...Tournament. While you were in the Hospital Wing. One night, I...' he paused, wrestling with himself. 'I went to the Wing. I was going to do something...I don't remember, some stupid prank to make it all worse for you. You were just lying there, sleeping, and I...couldn't.' He paused again. 'You were crying.'

Harry nodded. He knew he'd cried in his sleep a lot while he was kept in the Hospital Wing those last few weeks. He would feel the wetness of his tears on his cheek when he woke, or sometimes they had dried and he was left only with red-rimmed, bleary eyes. Then he frowned. 'That can't be right,' Harry said. 'On the Express, going back to London...'

Draco realised he was talking about that final, dreadful taunt in the train last year. He shook his head. 'I didn't mean it. I was trying to convince myself nothing was different. Four years of learning which buttons to push doesn't disappear just because I decided to be human one night.' Harry had to strain to hear what Draco said next. 'I was talking more at myself than at you.'

Harry ran a hand through his untidy hair. 'What am I going to tell the others?' he muttered. Draco's head snapped back, his eyes wide.

'Don't!' he gasped, grasping Harry's sleeves in panic. 'Don't tell anyone Harry, please! Oh God, they'd kill me!'

Harry realised, shocked, that Draco was being deadly serious. He pulled out of his grasp. 'Don't touch me,' he said gruffly. 'I won't tell. Who'd kill you? Why?'

Tears began to flow down Draco's face again. 'My father... the others.' He lay his head against the wall, eyes closed. 'I need to show you something, Harry.' He opened one eye to look at the dark-haired boy. 'Promise you won't leave. Promise me you'll let me explain.'

Harry nodded. Draco drew a deep breath and lifted his left hand, pulling the sleeve back so that Harry could see what was on his wrist. Harry went very pale. 'You... _Death Eater!_'

'Wait, listen to me! I swear I didn't want to Harry, but when I got home last year.... I fought them the whole way, but they dragged me into a room and they burned...' Draco's nails were scoring white trails across the back of his hand as he spoke. He watched his hands with a dull horror in his eyes. 'My father was... disappointed in me. You've heard the rumours about him beating me...'

Harry nodded.

'Well,' Draco said bitterly. 'I can honestly say that he's never laid a finger on me. He has men to do that. After they put the mark on me, he had someone put me under the Cruciatus curse for an hour.' Harry gasped, but Draco wasn't finished. He ploughed on, as though once started, he couldn't stop the words falling from his mouth. 'Then he...he decided he was tired of this little boy, this little son of his. He decided he wanted me to be a man. A...a true Malfoy.' 

Harry didn't want to think about what Draco meant by that. 

'He has servants for all sorts of things, Harry. He locked me up with one of his...women. For two days, with no food and no water either.' Draco broke down at that point, curling into a tight ball as the tears engulfed him. He was still scratching at his hand, harder now, and Harry reached out to stop him.

'Draco...I'm sorry,' he breathed, feeling sick to his stomach. Draco looked up at his touch, a faint, helpless hope flaring in his eyes. Harry shook his head quickly. 'Don't even think it.'

Draco's gaze retreated immediately to the grey stones of the wall. 'Sorry.' He shivered. 'I already felt...I don't know...something for you then, but after that...' Draco gulped. 'I don't want another woman to touch me again,' he whispered. 'Ever.'

Harry was silent.

'That was at the beginning of the holidays. We had two months...do you know how many times a person can cast Cruciatus in two months, Harry? Do you?'

_Don't,_ Harry thought. _Please don't say it._

Draco didn't.

Harry stared at him, shreds of his words flaring in his mind, which had otherwise been shocked into emptiness

. _..burned...never laid a finger...a true Malfoy...don't want...woman to touch...ever...Cruciatus...._

He passed a hand through his hair again. He couldn't handle all of this, not now. Not in one night. He needed...time. Suddenly Harry felt very tired.

'We should get back to our dormitories,' he said quietly. 'Draco? Come on. We have to sleep.'

'I don't sleep in there any more.'

'What? Why?'

'Because I can't stand seeing those faces...knowing what I know. Knowing who is a Death Eater and who isn't, and knowing that if I told them what happened none of them would care,' Draco said. 'Not one.'

'Where do you sleep, then?'

'Just wherever.' Draco curled even more into the corner and closed his eyes.

Harry stood slowly. He righted the desks and chairs, and collected the papers up. He placed the sheets that looked important on Professor McGonagall's desk and left the rest in her wastepaper basket. Then he left.

~~~*~~~

When Harry woke in the Gryffindor dormitory the following morning, his first thought was of Draco leaning in to kiss him. His second was of Draco hunched in a corner of a broken room, trying to sleep.

'Oh, Gods...' He pushed himself up into a sitting position. In the next bed, Ron stirred and opened one eye. He sat up quickly, grinning under his tussled red hair.

'You're still in one piece! Hermione was frantic last night, it was all I could do to get her to go to bed. She actually tried to get me to take your invisibility cloak so we could follow!' Harry stiffened at that particular thought. Ron squinted at him. 'Are you all right?'

'Mm.'

'So what happened? Did you get him?'

Harry stared at his friend and found that he had no words and no excuse. He shook his head mutely.

'Oh, come on. This has got to be better than the Bouncing Ferret! Spill!'

Harry shook his head again. 'I'll tell you later.' _If I can't get out of it._ 'How long until breakfast?'

Ron shrugged. 'Don't know, but it can't be too far away. My stomach's grumbling.'

Harry chuckled. 'I'd better get dressed then.' He collected a clean set of robes from his trunk and retreated into the bathroom.

Inside, Harry groaned and banged his head against the door. Of _course_ Ron would want to know what had happened. So would Hermione.

He glared sourly at himself in the mirror as he took off his pyjamas. He couldn't tell them the truth. He had promised Draco he wouldn't for a start, and for an end...well, what was he supposed to say to them, anyway?

He slipped the robe over his head. But he couldn't lie to them either. He'd made up Divination homework with Ron too often; he could spot Harry's falsehoods a mile away on a foggy night. With no moon.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, acknowledged that it wouldn't become any tidier if he tried a comb, and went back out. Ron slipped inside to change as Harry straightened the sheets on his bed. They went down to the common room together.

Hermione was already there, sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire. She looked up pensively as they entered. 'Well?'

Harry shrugged and raised a small smile, but couldn't get much further than that. It didn't matter though; Hermione rose and threw her arms around his neck. 'Thank God. I was so worried last night!'

'Hermione, I've survived Voldemort three times,' Harry pointed out.

'Yes, but sometimes Ferret seems somehow more evil.'

'That's because you've seen him at work,' Harry said, pushing her off. 'Believe me, Voldemort's worse.'

Ron was looking extremely uncomfortable. 'Um.' His stomach rumbled. 'Yes, that's just what I was going to say,' he muttered. 'Can we go down to eat now?'

Harry knew there was a completely different reason for the twin spots of colour in Ron's cheeks, but he let it slide. 'Paddywhack,' he informed the Fat Lady, and they made for the Great Hall.

Harry watched Draco from the corner of his eye as he ate. The boy had a hunted look in his eyes and didn't seem interested in speaking to anyone around him. When the owls arrived, he saw Draco look up and flinch. A large owl that looked as though it had a bit of falcon in it dropped a letter with a red seal into his lap. Harry watched as Draco lifted the letter, stared at it for a moment and then very carefully tore it in half. Pansy Parkinson leaned over to him across Goyle, said something Harry couldn't make out, and put her hand on Draco's arm.

The reaction was immediate. Draco's chair rocketed backwards.

'DON'T TOUCH ME!' he screamed, and sprinted out of the Hall.

Harry dropped his knife and fork. 'Stay here,' he muttered to Ron and Hermione as he stood and ran after Draco.

Harry stopped outside the Hall. There was no sign of Draco. He looked about frantically. _Come on, Malfoy! Smash something so I know where you are!_

He spun at the sound of hurried footsteps behind him. Snape was there, the two halves of Draco's letter in his hand. 'Where is he?'

'I don't know,' Harry said in a strangled voice. Inspiration hit him at the speed of panic. 'Wait!' He took off down the passages, making for Gryffindor Tower. He could hear Snape running after him.

'Paddywhack!' He gasped breathlessly at the Fat Lady, and he leaped past the portrait as it swung aside. Harry raced up to the boys' dormitory, threw his trunk open and rummaged through it. He snatched his wand and the Marauders' Map from the depths and ran back down. Only when he was back past the portrait did he pause for breath.

'I solemnly swear--I solemnly swear--' Harry, holding his wand to the blank parchment, fought to control his voice between panting. Snape frowned.

'What is that?'

Harry gulped more air. 'Not the time, sir! I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good!' The map materialised, and Harry's eyes roved over it, searching for the dot marked 'Draco Malfoy'. He found it, and began to run.

'Where is he?' Snape shouted, racing to catch up.

'Potions classroom! He's not moving but the dot--'

'What about it?'

'It keeps wavering in and out of focus. What does that mean? Professor?'

Snape swore and moved faster, pulling ahead of Harry. He stopped abruptly at the doorway of the Potions classroom. Harry nearly ploughed into him. He heard Snape mutter, 'Oh no...'

Several empty crucibles had smashed on the floor. Blood was splattered everywhere; over the floor, on the walls. In the middle of the room, Draco lay in a crumpled heap. Blood seeped from his wrists and his throat onto the floor. In his right hand he clutched a shard of crimson-smeared glass.

Snape pocketed the torn letter and walked to him, bending down to check his pulse. 'Still alive,' he muttered, an odd catch to his voice. Harry saw that he'd gone a very strange, pale shade.

Snape gathered Draco up and began to walk quickly to the hospital wing. Harry followed him. He could feel a prickling in the corners of his eyes, and fought it. He _wouldn't_. Draco wasn't dead, so there was no reason to cry. He _hated_ Draco Malfoy!

Beside him, Snape made a strange sound that just might have translated as a sob if Harry hadn't known the man was incapable of caring about another person. It was still enough to set him off.

Harry dashed his hands against the tears as they entered the Wing. Madam Pomfrey looked up at the sound of the door swinging shut and paled at the sight of Draco's bloodied form.

'Get him to a bed,' she said softly. 'Hurry.'

Snape laid Draco on a mattress and stood back. Madam Pomfrey took the boy's left hand to prise the glass from his fingers. She gasped when she saw what was burned into his wrist. 'Severus!'

'The Mark. I know. Help him anyway.' She nodded. 'Is there anything I can do?' Snape asked softly. 'Any potions you need?'

'No. It's my art that will help here, not yours. But I would be grateful if you could send Mundungus Fletcher here when you go to Dumbledore.'

'I will. Potter, come with me.'

Harry followed the Potions Master with a sinking feeling. As they walked back to the Potions room he noticed pools and trails of blood in the corridors where Snape had carried Draco. The Professor was also smeared with the red fluid.

They reached the Potions room, but Snape walked on to his office and held the door open, looking pointedly at Harry. He went inside with a growing sense of being trapped. Snape stepped in behind him and closed the door. 'What happened, Potter?'

Harry flinched. 'What?'

'Don't play games with me.' Snape's voice reminded Harry of a fuse burning down. 'You ran out before anyone else knew what was happening. You know something about this. Tell me.'

Harry paled. 'I can't,' he said. 'I promised him I wouldn't.'

Snape stared at him. Harry waited for the explosion. At last the man let out a low, hissing breath. 'I almost forgot,' he sneered in the fashion that Harry knew so well. 'You're a noble Gryffindor, aren't you?' He crossed to his desk, opened a drawer and fished out a piece of parchment and a quill. 'Write a diary entry,' he said curtly. 'You can't help absent-mindedly leaving pieces of valuable information lying around, can you, and I can't help being an inquisitive prat.'

In other circumstances, Harry might have laughed. But Snape was being very serious, and he took the parchment silently. Uncomfortably aware of Snape's gaze on him, Harry began to write. The only sound in the room for a few minutes was the scratching of the quill against parchment. When he was done, Harry handed the parchment to his teacher. Snape's face moved through several expressions as he read; none of them particularly nice. Finally he put the parchment down. He was frowning.

'I think you left something out, Potter.' Harry started. 'What happened to make Draco so upset in the first place?'

Harry stared at him defiantly. 'What do you mean?'

Snape held his gaze. 'Potter, I'm the Potions Master. I know _all about_ catalysts. What happened to him?'

Harry felt himself flush. 'He...he kissed me.'

'He kissed you.'

'Yes.' Harry's mouth felt very dry.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. 'You rejected him, didn't you?' he muttered.

'What? Yes, of course!'

Snape's head snapped up. Harry flinched. He wasn't glaring at him exactly, but something deeply malevolent had stirred in the man's black eyes. 'What do you mean, _of course_?' 

Harry didn't answer. Snape raised his eyes to the ceiling. His breath hissed through his teeth, sounding very much like 'Bloody homophobes.'. He turned to a basin built into the wall and washed his hands and his face of Draco's blood. Without those more visible clues, it was difficult to see the bloodstains on his black robes.

Snape turned back to his desk and reached into the bottom drawer. He drew out a small bottle filled with a dark liquid, opened the bottle and took a long gulp from it.

'Why did you do that?'

'I need something warm in me.' Snape recapped the bottle and put it away. 'Because when I tell Dumbledore about this, Hell's going to start freezing over.'

Several minutes later five tables of subdued teachers and students looked up at the sound of them entering the Great Hall. Snape wasted no time.

'Professor Dumbledore, we need to talk. Fletcher, I suggest you get to the Hospital Wing as quickly as possible. Find Argus Filch on your way; there's a mess in several of the corridors and in the Potions room. There's been an...accident.'

Fletcher nodded and hurried out. Snape advanced towards Dumbledore, who was looking at them both very gravely, but he spoke to the entire school. 'Anyone who has Potions today will no doubt rejoice in the knowledge that they now have a free session. The Potions, Hippogriff, Charms and Healing corridors are completely out of bounds, as are the Potions classroom and the Hospital Wing themselves. If the Boggart, Twisted or Manticore stairways change to lead to those areas, wait until they change back. I suggest that you find some way to use your spare time other than venting your curiosity. If I hear a single word breathed about a student going into those areas I will personally hunt that person down and make certain that they regret it.' He nodded at Dumbledore. 'I'm done.'

Dumbledore rose, his eyes sweeping the room. 'I believe that it is high time you all began your classes. Those of you who had Potions this morning should take note of Professor Snape's words. I have seldom heard him make an empty threat.'

Everyone stood and the room emptied silently. Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry questioningly, but he shook his head. 'Go,' he mouthed. 'I'll tell you later.'

'What happened?' Dumbledore asked Snape when they were alone.

'Draco Malfoy attempted suicide.' He handed Dumbledore the piece of parchment on which Harry had written. 'This is why.'

As the Headmaster read the passage, Harry watched the normal, tenacious twinkle in his eyes dull, and slowly die. Harry began to feel very cold inside. He wished Snape had given him some of that drink, whatever it was. Dumbledore's hand was actually shaking when he put the parchment down on the table beside him. 'I see,' he said softly. 'And what about the letter?'

Snape pulled the letter Draco had torn from his pocket. They placed the two halves together on the table. The silver words gleamed, asking Draco how his lessons were going, was he enjoying Quidditch, his mother missed him terribly; please remember to owl back soon.

'Charmed,' Snape muttered, sounding disgusted.

'We'll need to get Draco to read it when he wakes,' Dumbledore sighed.

'_If_ he wakes,' Snape corrected. Dumbledore glanced up sharply, and the Potions Master gave a shrug with one shoulder. His face had gone that odd colour again. 'Poppy was very worried. She actually acknowledged that she might need the help of Mundungus, Albus.'

'Severus, I think you had better sit down.' Snape did so, very quickly. He steepled his fingers and stared ahead in a way that reminded Harry of the way Draco had looked as he'd entered the Healing room.

'Are you all right, Harry?' Dumbledore asked him gently.

Harry nodded. 'I'll be fine sir, only...' For some reason Harry found it easier to tell Dumbledore than Snape. 'I'm the real reason he did this. When I went to the Healing room last night, I was expecting a duel, but Draco...he kissed me. And when he stopped--well, I was pretty clear on what I thought about it. About him.'

Dumbledore shook his head. 'Don't believe that, Harry. Not for a second. You're not the reason this has happened. Don't blame yourself.'

'But I am,' Harry insisted. 'It is my fault.'

'Don't fool yourself, Potter,' Snape said harshly. 'This has been brewing for a long while. The catalyst has no effect on the reaction itself. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine.' He gave a miserable shake of his head. 'I'm his Head of House. I _knew_ he'd become a Death Eater, I knew he was unhappy, but I had no idea how much. I should have done something anyway.'

'Enough,' Dumbledore said sharply. 'No one is to blame for what has happened. Do you understand me, Harry? Severus?'

Harry nodded. Snape held Dumbledore's gaze much longer before giving in. He nodded very slightly. Dumbledore passed a hand over his eyes.

'All right. I need to go to my office now to sort things out. Then...I'll be in the Hospital Wing. Harry, it would probably be best if you didn't attend any classes for the rest of the day. Severus, have one for me.' He left the room looking older than Harry had ever seen him.

Snape stood as well and paced out. Harry followed automatically.

'What are you going to do now?'

'I intend to do what any sane wizard would do at this point.'

'What's that?'

'I'm going to get drunk. You're welcome to join me if you wish.'

Harry glanced at him incredulously. 'I'm three years under-age, sir.'

Snape snorted. 'If the Muggle police raid us you can tell them you were under my supervision. However dubious that may seem.'

Harry decided to take Snape up on his offer.

Afterwards, Harry considered that the Potion Master's bottom drawer must have housed several pocketed dimensions within its apparently small boundaries. He retrieved a much larger bottle from its depths than before, and took two tumblers from a rack beside the basin. Snape poured the liquor carefully; Harry noticed that the glass handed to him held much less than Snape's. 

'Sip, don't gulp. That requires experience and a certain lack of intelligence.' Snape demonstrated by draining his glass in three draughts. 

Harry sipped tentatively at his drink as Snape poured himself another. He choked a little as the bitter liquid sloshed down his throat. 'What is this?'

Snape shrugged, sitting in the corner. 'Alcohol. You get used to it.' He drank deeply.

'There is a chair here, Professor.'

'You sit in it then. When I'm drinking, I prefer corners.' Snape's black eyes became unfocused, watching something only he could see.

Harry glanced at the chair and decided quickly against it. It was an almost perfect imitation of its owner: tattered, dirty and extremely uncomfortable. He opted instead for leaning against the desk. Harry sipped experimentally, and found that Snape was right: after you got over the initial bitterness, it was bearable. In fact, it was quite good...

Harry blinked as a random thought lodged itself into his head and refused to be shaken off. He looked at Snape, remembering the way Draco had clung to the corner of the Transfiguration classroom.

'Professor, can I ask you a question?'

'Can I stop you?' Snape said dryly.

'You said you knew about Draco being a Death Eater. Why didn't you do anything about it?'

Snape groaned. 'Potter, I'm a spy. If I'd intervened it would have blown my cover completely.' He took another gulp. 'Voldemort's already mistrustful of me. It took some very smooth lying to keep him from killing me when I returned to him last year. If I'd helped Draco, I would have been no use to Dumbledore any more. A spy's task is to watch, not to act.' He shook his head. 'It's what I hate most about the job. While we're asking difficult questions, what was the kiss like?'

Harry choked on a mouthful of liquor, feeling his face flame. 'Professor!'

'I'm only asking. It's what you're supposed to do when you get drunk, and the beauty of it is that you can claim amnesia and a god-awful headache in the morning.'

Harry merely stared at him. Snape shrugged.

'I suppose homophobia is something that doesn't change regardless of which side you're on,' he muttered.

'Why does it bother you so much?' Harry's eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. 'You're not--'

'No,' Snape growled. 'As a matter of fact I'm not. But some of my friends used to be.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Used to be?' he echoed.

Snape glared at him. Finally he said, 'Pass me the bottle. I should be fearless enough to tell the story by the time it's empty.'

Harry handed the bottle over obediently and waited in silence. Snape emptied it quickly and he leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, before he spoke.

'When I was in my sixth year, two of my closest friends fell in love with each other. They'd been great friends for years, so it would have seemed acceptable, inevitable even, that they would grow even closer into adolescence...would have, that is, if they weren't both male. They were David Harrow and Morgan Peters

'Knowing that their feelings wouldn't be considered...normal, they kept it a secret even from me for a long while. Finally they decided they needed to talk to someone. They went to our Head of House, and he denounced them immediately. Within a week, the entire school knew about David and Morgan, and they were shunned like stray dogs.'

'How did you react?' Harry interrupted. Snape shrugged.

'I was shocked more than anything, and I did withdraw from them for a while. But we'd been friends too long and I knew them too well to look at them as the hideous, abnormal monsters other people seemed to see. I had my share of insults for staying with them. '

Harry was silent for a while, thinking. 'Professor...do you think it would be much different now?'

Snape looked at him. 'Why, Potter? Have a confession to make?'

'No!' Harry snapped. 'I'm worried about Draco, that's all.'

Snape continued to stare at him for a moment longer than Harry felt was necessary before he answered. 'The school need not know.' He waved a hand irritably as Harry opened his mouth to speak. 'Oh, they'll find out about the suicide attempt soon enough, but I think it should be up to Draco how much he tells about the rest, don't you?'

'Meaning it probably wouldn't be much better.'

'No. Especially with the Dark Lord on the rise again.'

'Another question, sir?'

'Cheers.' Snape said gloomily. He blinked, slowly. 'You'd better make it quick, though. I think this stuff's beginning to take effect.'

'Why did you join with Voldemort?'

Snape's dark eyes became brooding. 'My two dear friends again,' he muttered. 'Do you know what Voldemort was offering to wizards who joined him in those days?'

'Power.'

'That was part of it, yes, but it's not what appealed to my friends and I. He offered a purely magical world. I don't know whether you've noticed, but we have to work very hard to make sure Muggles don't find out about our world. Voldemort was offering freedom from that. Freedom, Potter. Morgan and David were convinced they would be freed as well. The fact that we would have to torture and kill Muggles and even other wizards wasn't mentioned until after we had become Death Eaters.

'When we joined, Morgan and David decided to keep themselves a secret, knowing that others who mightn't look on them so kindly would become Death Eaters as well. They intended to plead their case to the Dark Lord once the utopia was achieved. However, they were discovered, and Voldemort was furious to know that such...such scum had joined his ranks.' A cocktail of anger and self-hatred smouldered in the coals of Snape's eyes. 'He ordered that they be killed. I happened to be the chosen executioner.'

'You didn't.' Harry said in a small, shocked voice. 'Tell me you didn't do it.'

Snape stared at him, pale and despairing. 'I rejoined Dumbledore soon afterward,' he croaked. Harry looked away. The pain in Snape's eyes told him that there had been no choice.

When Harry ventured to look back at his teacher again, Snape had passed out. Harry looked down at his own tumbler. It was empty. He couldn't remember finishing the glass, though he judged that it was probably a while ago. He hadn't drunk nearly as much as Snape, but he was a lot younger and not used to the alcohol. What exactly was in it, anyway?

'I'd better leave,' he muttered to himself, and staggered out of the office, feeling dizzy.

By the time he reached the Fat Lady, Harry was fighting to stay on his feet.

'Are you all right, dear?'

'Hmm? I think so. Paddywhack...'

Harry collapsed halfway into the common room.

~~~*~~~

'He's waking up.'

'Harry? Are you okay?'

'What happened to him?'

'Don't know...'

Harry was being shaken awake, none too gently. He opened his eyes and shut them again quickly, confronted with a mass of faces that swam in and out of focus, flickering in the midst of night shadows and the light from the fireplace. He was surrounded by the squashy warmth of a Gryffindor armchair. Harry lifted his eyelids cautiously and waited for the nearest two faces to become clear. Ron and Hermione peered at him worriedly. A little behind Ron he could see the blur of red hair that was Ginny Weasley. She looked very pale and was making odd sniffling noises.

'Calm down Ginny, he's all right,' Ron muttered.

'What happened, Harry?' Hermione said quietly.

Harry's gaze shifted from them to the mass of faces a few feet away, still moving in and out of focus. _Too many people._ He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and the room swam.

'Urgh. Ron, Hermione--dormitory--now.' He stood carefully. 'Everyone else, keep away. Or I may be forced to kill you.'

A few people laughed at that, but they shut up quickly. Harry wasn't smiling. He trudged up the stairs to the boys' dormitory with his friends in tow. Hermione closed the door behind her.

'I reiterate: what happened?'

Harry sat on his bed. 'Too much.' They stared at him blankly and he waved a hand. 'All right, all right, I'm telling. You know the duel I had with Malfoy?'

'You mean the one I spent half the night chewing my lip off with worry over? Or some other duel?'

'Hermione, please. This is going to get embarrassing.' Harry fidgeted. 'We didn't duel. Exactly. Er.'

'What do you mean?' Ron interrupted.

'Draco didn't bring his wand.'

Hermione snorted. 'You mean he forgot it?'

'No.' Harry could feel himself going red. _For God's sake, how many times can one person blush in a day?_ 'Draco had something different in mind...'

'Did you fight?' Ron asked eagerly.

'No. Um. He kissed me.' The refrain was beginning to repeat itself in Harry's mind. 

Ron laughed. 'You're kidding,' he said.

'I'm not.' He didn't dare look them in the eye.

There was complete silence. Harry looked up very slowly.

The contrast between his friends' faces was almost comical. Hermione had frozen, stunned. Ron had gone very red and was shaking. Suddenly he snatched his wand up.

'I'll kill him,' he breathed. 'I'm going to kill him...' He stood up quickly and headed for the door.

'Ron, stop! Ron!' Harry had to leap in front and shove the door shut to stop him. 'There's...there's a lot more to it than Draco just being a pervert. I pushed him off...'

'Good!'

'He sort of broke down, and...I think it brought back a lot of bad memories, all in a rush. He couldn't handle it...when he ran out this morning--Ron, it's no good you going after him. He's already tried to kill himself.'

He heard Hermione gasp behind him. Ron stared. 'Ferret?' he whispered. 'Tried to...to kill himself?' He sat back heavily on the bed. His mouth opened and closed until he managed to squeeze one word out. 'Why?'

Haltingly, Harry repeated what Draco had told him. By the end of it, Ron looked as though he might throw up. Hermione was in tears. Harry watched as Ron slowly drew her into his arms and she buried her face in his shoulder.

'I can't believe...oh God, we've been so horrible to him!' she moaned. Ron met Harry's eyes over her shoulder, grimacing helplessly.

'We've only ever thrown back what he dished out, Hermione,' he said slowly. 'We weren't to know.' He looked about to continue, but hesitated. 'Look, you're both going to hate me for saying this, but this couldn't all be some...some Death Eater trick, could it?'

'What,' Harry said distantly. 'You mean like some sort of Kamikaze mission?'

'Harry, don't look at me like that. He could be under Imperius, couldn't he? Hermione? Could they do that?'

Hermione sat up, brushing her eyes. 'It would take a very powerful wizard to keep it up the whole time,' she said.

'You-Know-Who,' Ron said pointedly.

'Yes, but...' Hermione shook her head. 'I don't think it would work. If someone wants to do the Imperius curse properly, they need to know the other person's normal mannerisms, speech; that sort of thing, so no one can tell. I don't think two months' holidays would be enough to learn Draco Malfoy by heart.'

'I don't know,' Ron mumbled. 'I'd figured out that he was a slimy, arrogant little snob within the first ten minutes I knew him.'

'I think you're talking a more about the Malfoy part than the Draco,' Harry murmured. Ron frowned at him.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, you've seen his father, haven't you? They're both slimy and arrogant, but there are differences there as well. Hermione's right. No one could have used Imperius on Draco and still kept him so...Draco. Not since the beginning of school. And...'

'What?'

'Well, it's a pretty elaborate scheme, isn't it? I mean, what's the point? Just to shock me? Voldemort's after more than that.'

Ron winced. 'I wish you'd stop saying his name,' he muttered. 'All right, sorry. I just can't help trying to find a way to hate him still.' He shrugged ruefully. 'I guess it's built-in.'

There was a soft knock at the door.

'Who is it?' they called.

'Neville,' said a slightly muffled voice on the other side. 'Seamus and Dean are here too. McGonagall's going nuts in the common room. She says if you don't open up right now so we can get to bed, we're to break the door down.'

'It's not that late, is it?' Ron said.

'I don't know. I lost track of time around the same point I fainted.'

'Yes,' Hermione said, and there was a meaningful glint in her eyes. 'You never did get around to that part.'

'Oh. Well, after we...found Draco, I went and got drunk with Snape.'

'You _what_?'

'Um. It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'Harry!' Neville sounded desperate. 'They're talking about using me as a battering ram!'

'Blast.' Ron opened the door. 'All right, come in. Hermione, you'd better go. Be careful--if McGonagall knows you've been in here she'll go ballistic.'

Hermione left quickly, blushing hotly. Dean had already begun to unbutton his robe whilst hunting under his pillow for his pyjamas.

'What did you do that for, you idiot!'

Dean winked at Ron. 'Jealous?'

Ron threw a pillow at him.

~~~*~~~

Harry chased sleep for a good few hours after the ensuing pillow fight. He even caught it once or twice, but it kept dancing away from him just as he began to settle into a dream, teasing like a mischievous imp. Eventually Harry gave up, sat up, and rubbed his eyes.

Harry slipped out from between the sheets and padded carefully to the foot of the bed. He knelt down and lifted the lid of his trunk, groping for his wand. After a moment or two he felt the familiar wood in his hand.

'Lumos,' Harry whispered, and the wand shed its light. He cupped his hand around its tip hastily to keep it from waking the others, and winced slightly as Ron turned over, mumbling something in his sleep.

Harry could see now, and he pulled his invisibility cloak from the trunk and wrapped it around him. He left the dormitory for the still common room, heading straight for the Fat Lady's painting.

'Paddywhack,' Harry whispered. Nothing happened.

Harry blinked. Had the password changed already? He tapped the wall gently.

'Mmmph? Whozzat? The Fat Lady's voice was drowsy. 'Go 'way. Was having a luvvy dream...'

'Paddywhack,' Harry said quietly.

'Are you sure? Oh, all right...' The painting swung around and Harry slipped out into the hall, muttering 'Thank you,' as he passed.

He trod through Hogwarts silently, heading directly for the Hospital wing. When he reached the Healing corridor Harry stopped. There was a white light shimmering under the hospital door. Harry pulled his cloak off and stepped forward. He pushed the door open gently, half expecting Madam Pomfrey to appear, scolding him and sending him away to bed. All that met him was the light.

It was coming from the bed in which Draco lay. Radiance played about the areas of his body at which Draco had slashed. Madam Pomfrey sat in a chair beside him, in some kind of trance. Cupped in her hands was a ball of the same brilliant light. In the next bed, Professor Fletcher slept. Dumbledore watched over them all at the foot of the bed.

Harry was certain that he'd entered silently. The old wizard looked around at him anyway.

'Harry,' Dumbledore said, and there was more than a hint of tiredness in his voice, 'What are you doing here?'

'I couldn't sleep,' Harry replied simply. 'Have you been here all night?'

'Yes.'

'You should get some rest, Professor. I'll stay here.'

Dumbledore looked for a moment as though he was about to object, but he stopped. The edges of his beard twitched and a shadow of the usual twinkle entered his eyes. 'Thank you, Harry.'

When Dumbledore had gone, Harry stood at the end of the bed. Draco's face was illuminated by the ball's incandescence and in the absence of that perpetual smirk he looked almost like an infant. His pale hair gleamed silver as it reflected the orb's light.

Harry moved around to the side of the bed, opposite Madam Pomfrey. He knelt down, his chin resting on the mattress, and stared at the back of Draco's head.

'Why did you do it?' he whispered. 'Some awful things have happened to you, but...but you've been acting so normally. If you'd kept at it, you might have been able to get over everything. Why did you break? Was it me? Is it my fault? Have I really caused you this much pain?'

Draco rolled over in his slumber. One of his hands landed on top of Harry's on the mattress. Harry stared at it for a second before drawing his hand away, slowly, so as not to disturb Draco.

It was the hand on which the Dark Mark had been burned. The Mark could now barely be seen for the light playing over the slashes in Draco's wrist. Beyond the flickering light, Harry could see the still-red cuts, not yet closed. The glow seemed to be keeping Draco from bleeding to death.

'Come back, Draco,' Harry whispered. 'Wake up. Live. Please. Come back.'

A single tear emerged from Draco's lash and slid over his cheek.


	3. Release

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: If you're under 15 years old, you shouldn't be here unless you've got an amazing level of maturity. The chapter contains: slash, het, coarse language. If you can't handle all of that, get out now. I don't want to be responsible for lasting emotional or psychological damage; that's Voldemort's job.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:Luca, The Shinigumi (I'm amazed I managed to move you so much. I'm glad you liked the imps, I had a lot of fun with those. Wait till you see what I do with *them*. Heheheh... I know Pansy's annoying, but she'll be dealt with, promise.), chasati, Penelope-Z, Saheen, Angel, Slytherin Godess (Thank you so much. I'm sorry I couldn't find your e-mail address), Britt, VoodooDaisuke, WildfireFriendship, Phyrbyrd, Myr, Juliana Black, Twilights Death, S. Maldiva, Sarah-chan, Azzie (I know. You get the feeling I hate Lucius?), brooke`, X (Many thanks!), tired_faith, Kcarke (I wouldn't be having this much fun if I'd let them fall too far out of character ^_^. Thank you, I liked the drinking scene as well. I never really thought of Draco's suicide as chilling, oddly enough.), Kimagure, vmr, ruka-chan, and Megumi. 

****

All Torn Down: Release

Cool breeze and autumn leaves;

Slow motion daylight.

A lone pair of watchful eyes

Oversee the living:

Feel the presence all around;

A tortured soul,

A wound unhealing.

No regrets or promises;

The past is gone,

But you can still be free...

If time will set you free.

--From _You Can Still Be Free_, Savage Garden.

The first thing Draco became aware of was warmth. He couldn't remember feeling so warm before, but he wasn't hot. He felt safe. Then he realised he had a tangible shape; one that could touch other things. He was touching something now. It was soft. It seemed to be the source of the warmth.

Draco opened one eye. It took a moment for him to focus and realise he was in the Hospital Wing, in a bed covered by blankets. His eye swivelled about, and eventually came to rest on the old man watching from the end of the bed.

'Draco,' Albus Dumbledore murmured. 'At last you're awake.'

Draco struggled to sit up, but fell back, gasping as the room whirled around him.

'Careful,' Dumbledore said gently. 'You haven't eaten or drunk for some time.'

There was a tired sigh from the other side of the bed and some of the light in the room dimmed. Draco looked over. Fletcher, sitting in a chair by his side, appeared to have fallen into a deep sleep.

'How long have I been here?' he croaked.

'You've been unconscious for almost three weeks.'

'Who...?'

Dumbledore seemed to understand what he was trying to say. 'Harry Potter and Professor Snape saved you.'

Draco closed his eyes. An image of Harry's face, eyes blazing, flashed into his mind, and he knew he should hate him, hate him, _hate him_ for the pain of his rejection, so soon after that brief brush with Heaven. But he couldn't find the fire in him. Perhaps he was just too tired. Or perhaps he really had fallen in love. He couldn't be sure. Potter seemed very far away at the moment.

And Snape...

Draco shot up, ignoring the blur of the room around him. He brought his hand up to stare at the Dark Mark on his wrist. He'd hacked away desperately at the image; tried to tear it out of him, but there was still a tattered remnant of the tattoo between the scars.

'Dumbledore,' he said urgently. 'Don't trust Snape. He's a Death Eater. He's like me, he's filth—'

'Snape is a spy working for me,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'There is no need for you to be afraid of him.'

'A...a spy?' Draco lay back down in shock. 'He can't be,' he whispered. 'He can't be, it's not true, he must be a Death Eater, he must be. Otherwise he would have—' Draco could feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes. 'He would have stopped them. Helped me. Why didn't he help me?'

Dumbledore stepped forward and moved to place a hand on the boy's head, but Draco shied away. 'Don't touch me.'

'Severus wanted to help you, Draco. Make no mistake about that. But if he had done something it would have alerted Voldemort to the fact that both you and he were not completely loyal. It was too dangerous. In truth, he did nothing because none of us knew the...extent to which you had been harmed. If you had come to him here at school, something may have been arranged.'

'But I didn't trust him.'

'Professor?' Madame Pomfrey appeared on the edges of Draco's vision, looking extremely weary. She looked down at Draco. 'Awake! Thank goodness...' She turned back to Dumbledore. 'I'll get the house elves to send some food and water up quickly. He should probably be left alone for now,' she said with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

'I'll see that no one disturbs him,' Dumbledore replied. Pomfrey pursed her lips disapprovingly but left without commenting.

'He told you, didn't he?' Draco said when she was gone. 'You know about everything.'

'Yes, I do.'

'Even the...the kiss?'

'He told me about that, yes.'

'He promised he wouldn't tell anyone.' Draco somehow couldn't muster the bitterness that the sentence demanded. 'I...sort of knew he would. Harry will keep any promise, any secret, from everyone but a few people. Just a few who he has to tell. Hermione, Ron...you...'

'I had noticed that about him.'

'Does anyone else know?'

'Severus does. But no one else. And no one else will know unless you tell them.'

'Thank you. Have you been here every day?'

'Yes.'

'Has he?'

'Yes, he has.'

'Snape?'

'Whenever he could. I must go now, Draco. You should rest when you've eaten. I'll be back later. There's something I want you to look at, and other things I need to ask you.'

Draco nodded. Dumbledore turned away, but paused in the doorway.

'Don't regret that you have lived, Draco.'

A few minutes after the Headmaster had gone, a house elf entered with a laden tray. It stood by the bed, waiting patiently until Draco had finished eating, and left without a word. Draco lay back and looked at Fletcher snoring peacefully beside him. He thought about Harry, and Snape, and what Dumbledore wanted with him. His mind drifted to another time and place in which he had gone without food and water, and remembered how much more awful that had been. Then he slept.

~~~*~~~

When Draco woke, Fletcher's form by the bed had been replaced by that of Dumbledore. He sat up.

'What did you want me to see?'

The old man passed him the torn letter silently. Draco blanched. 'No,' he breathed. 'Please no...'

'It's been charmed. No one else can understand the true message, Draco. I'm sorry, but we need to know what it says.'

Draco drew the two pieces of the letter together with shaking hands. The words glinted at him, making him think of sharp blades. 'Oh Gods...'

'Calm down,' Dumbledore said gently. 'What does it say?'

Draco licked his lips and began to read:

'_Draco,_

Voldemort wants a report as soon as possible. What have you been doing? No one has heard hide nor hair from you since I left you at the Station, but the Dark Lord has been getting some very strange reports about you from other students. Remember, if you bungle this, I won't be there to save you any more. You're a man now.'

Draco paused, shuddering. 'Save me,' he muttered. 'When has he ever done that?'

'_In addition to your other charges, keep a close eye on Snape. Voldemort is growing suspicious. The man is the closest informant to Dumbledore we have, but his messages are few and far between. If it continues much longer, he will be declared traitor, and duly punished.'_

Draco broke off again. 'He was probably knocking on wood when he wrote that.'

'Draco,' Dumbledore said pointedly, and he continued.

'_See that you are free to get out of Hogwarts at midnight on Sunday a month and a half from now. There will be a gathering outside of Hogsmeade. You must be there._

May the Dark Lord's final ascendance be great.

Be a man. Be a Malfoy.

Lucius.'

The paper crumpled as Draco's hands balled into fists. He could feel the tears threatening to spill again. 'Bastard,' he muttered. 'Utter, utter bastard. I hate him!'

'I cannot fault you there,' Dumbledore said wryly. 'Although I can't say I appreciate your use of the language.'

'I'm not Harry, Dumbledore,' Draco said. 'I'm not nice. I'm a bloody Malfoy!'

'Be still,' Dumbledore told him. 'What did he mean by your 'other charges'?'

'I'm supposed to watch you and Harry. If you're planning anything against Voldemort, I'm to report it and stop it if I can.'

'I see.' Dumbledore was silent for a moment. 'You aren't the only student here who has been...recruited, are you?'

Draco shook his head. 'There are a lot more. Mainly the children of Death Eaters, but there are others as well. Some were put under Imperius. Others...well, I think they're mainly interested in the thrill, the danger of it all. They don't really understand. A few think they have some kind of vendetta against Potter.'

'Do they all have similar missions to yours?'

'No. Some are trying to convince other students to join Voldemort. A few are watching the rest of us to see that no one betrays him.'

'_Ah_. So he's infiltrating Hogwarts first this time...' Dumbledore sighed dejectedly. 'Draco, I have one more question. It's an important one, and I need your answer straight away.'

'Professor?'

'Will you join us?'

Draco was stunned. 'I...sorry?'

'I'm asking you to become a spy, Draco. Think about it carefully, but quickly. Severus won't be able to operate on his own for much longer. It will be dangerous. You will be working against many of your fellow students; people you have known for years. But you will also be working against Voldemort.'

'And if I say no?'

Dumbledore sighed again. 'If you decide not, then I will wipe your memory of the past day, and you will continue your life as you see fit.'

'That's all?' Draco said sharply. 'Dumbledore, I'm a known Death Eater. I've cast Cruciatus, I've made people writhe in pain, I've watched others do it and done _nothing_! And you're willing to let me go free? Moody told us last year that casting an Unforgivable Curse on another human being, even _once_, could lead to a life sentence in Azkaban! Don't I deserve some kind of punishment?'

Dumbledore gazed pointedly at the scars on Draco's wrists and throat. 'I rather think that you have endured enough pain.'

'Would you be so lenient with all Death Eaters?' Draco asked him softly. 'Or are you just acting out of pity?'

'This is not leniency. It is a choice. It is, and must be, your choice. And you must make it now.'

Draco stared into the old man's clear blue eyes for only a few seconds before he said, quite clearly; 'I'll do it. I'll spy for you.'

Dumbledore relaxed. 'Thank you, Draco.' He stood. 'Poppy is insisting that you remain here for a few days longer.'

Draco lay back. 'I'm not complaining.'

The Headmaster's beard twitched and his eyes twinkled briefly in sympathy. 'We will speak later.'

He left quietly.

~~~*~~~

The next few days went by far too quickly for Draco's liking. He was surprised at the number of visitors he had. Almost every time he woke from slumber, there was someone by him. Draco took to opening his eyes only slightly when he woke and looking out through his lashes to see who was there, before waking completely. 

Often it was Dumbledore, and they would talk about Voldemort; about his plans and how they could be thwarted. Together they composed a report for Voldemort, telling him of Dumbledore's 'schemes'. The Headmaster seemed uncannily adept at lying; some of the more vague details were true and served to give the rest credibility. Dumbledore never spoke of Harry unless it was necessary, and he never asked about the kiss. For that, Draco was grateful.

Once or twice he had seen Pansy Parkinson, pale-faced between Crabbe and Goyle by his bedside. He remembered guiltily how he had reacted to her touch, and how she must have felt about his near-death. Whenever he saw her nearby, Draco closed his eyes and feigned slumber until she was gone. He couldn't face her, not now. Not yet. And certainly not with Crabbe and Goyle around.

Another visitor Draco avoided at all costs was Harry. He was frequently by the bedside, sometimes flanked by Ron and Hermione, sometimes not. Like Pansy, he was usually very pale and withdrawn. Occasionally, while Draco pretended to sleep, he heard Harry whispering something to him. It sounded like comfort.

Just once, Draco saw Ron there by himself. He was so shocked he didn't close his eyes, but remained staring through his lashes at the boy. Ron didn't offer him comfort, but merely stared, confusion dulling the old hatred in his eyes.

And then there was Snape. With the exception of Dumbledore, he was Draco's most frequent visitor. He had changed. Where once there had been the typical Slytherin's smug self-assurance, Draco now saw uncertainty and occasionally something akin to self-loathing.

When Draco first saw him there, he was surprised into wakefulness. He propped himself up on his elbows warily. 'Professor.'

'Draco.' A half-smile traced its way across the man's mouth, quickly gone. 'It's good to finally see you awake.'

'Did Dumbledore send you here?'

'No. He prefers someone to be near you, but I come of my own accord,' Snape said. 'He did tell me why you didn't speak to me before this happened. I'm sorry you felt that way.'

'I suppose you were driven mad with worry,' Draco said sarcastically.

'Close to,' Snape replied. Draco looked away from him.

'I didn't want to talk then. No more do I now.'

There was a pause. Then he heard Snape mutter, 'Understood.'

Silence reigned for a long while, but Snape didn't leave, even when Draco laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. Finally he said, 'I can understand that you might not want to speak to me, Draco, but there are things I need to tell you. We're very much alike, you and I.'

Draco scrunched his eyelids together. _I don't want to hear this._

'We're both Slytherins, have both been Death Eaters. I am a spy and soon you will be too. I have endured almost everything that you have had to endure because of Voldemort. Believe it or not, talking can help. Look at what silence has got you, Draco. If it's other people finding out that scares you, don't worry. I've been keeping secrets all my life; I should have the hang of it by now. But if there's anything you're troubled about again, for God's sake let someone know.' Snape paused for breath. He'd been speaking quietly, probably to make certain that Madame Pomfrey couldn't hear them, but with an intensity that Draco had rarely connected with him. 'And then there is the other thing.'

_Nice of him to put it so tactfully,_ Draco thought wryly, knowing full well what Snape was talking about.

'I can't say that I know personally what it's like, and I certainly don't agree with your feelings for Potter. But _if_ you ever decide that you need help, I would probably be more use than any other teacher in this school. Keep that in mind.'

Draco's eyes snapped open. 'You would, would you?' he growled. 'What the hell makes you think you'd understand anything about how I feel?'

Snape stared at him a moment with an unreadable expression on his face. He began, haltingly at first, to tell Draco about David Harlow and Morgan Peters. As Snape spoke, Draco slowly sat up. There was a long silence when he finished, but Draco wasn't angry any more.

'You're looking for forgiveness, aren't you?' he said quietly.

'Forgiveness?' A bitter laugh. 'That's a very Potter-like concept, Draco. I'm surprised he didn't come up with it when I told him.'

'You told Harry that?'

'He got me drunk. Well, I got me drunk, but he asked the questions.'

'What was his reaction?'

Snape sighed. 'I think he'll be able to look me in the eye again in a few years. No, I'm not after forgiveness. There are only three people I might seek it from, and two are dead. The other, Dumbledore, has already accepted me. I just thought you should know, considering we'll be working together.' He pulled a pocket watch from his robes and glanced at it. 'And now I have a class to teach.' Snape stood.

'Sir,' Draco said suddenly. 'Will you be here tomorrow?'

'If I can.'

Draco nodded. 'You still won't be able to make me talk, though.'

A brief smile tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth as he turned away. He paused in the doorway, reminding Draco of Dumbledore as he looked back. 'There is a Potions exam in a few weeks. When Pomfrey lets you go back to your classes, I suggest you study hard unless you want to fail your O.W.L.s.'

Draco almost laughed at the absurdity of the remark in comparison to what they had been speaking about.

Two days later he was released from the Hospital Wing.

~~~*~~~

For the next few weeks Draco felt as though he was living in a glass house. Everyone watched him and everyone was extremely polite, as though he might shatter if they said the wrong thing.

Most of the Slytherins, including Crabbe and Goyle, avoided him strenuously. But he could feel their eyes on him as he walked down the halls; and he heard them whispering when they thought he was out of earshot. Once or twice he caught Pansy looking at him pensively. She would open her mouth to say something, then decide against it and turn away.

The Dream Team, too, kept clear. He hated the confusion he saw in Weasley's eyes, and the pity in Granger's. But worst was the way Potter refused to look at him at all.

The teachers watched Draco closely--they had probably been instructed to do so by Dumbledore. But they didn't set too many limits on him. Draco had the feeling most of them were scared they might push him over the edge again.

The situation did have its benefits, though. During Quidditch practice, he was left to his own devices. That suited Draco fine. Without the interference of the other players Draco could concentrate on catching the Snitch. They had their next match in two weeks, against the Ravenclaws—they wouldn't lose again.

Also, if Draco failed to come to a class, none of his teachers dared question him—with the exception of Snape, but even he didn't push things too far, and Draco managed to evade most of his queries.

And so Draco took to wandering the castle's labyrinthine passages at will. He realised that considering how many years he'd spent at Hogwarts, his actual knowledge of its layout was quite limited. He spent hours exploring and getting himself lost. Within the course of a week Draco had discovered ten rooms, five passages, and a hidden stairway which he doubted had been visited by anyone in a good few years. They were probably out of bounds. He decided he didn't really care.

This wasn't to say he abandoned his school work. Draco followed Snape's advice and studied extensively. But he did it at his own pace and in a place of his choosing; which generally wasn't the subject's designated classroom. If he needed equipment, he could usually persuade the teachers to lend him the room for a lunch hour. He caught up the work he'd missed quickly, and according to rumour he began to vie with Granger for top marks in some subjects. Draco thought that was highly doubtful, but he was mildly pleased as well. Even his Magical Healing mark was picking up.

That didn't save him from the Reiki examination. Draco was given a week and a hectic study schedule to catch up before he was tested. They had Care of Magical Creatures beforehand. Draco made the mistake of turning up.

His imp was one of the few entities in the school that didn't bother to walk on eggshells around him. In fact, being its wicked little self, it practically ground the shells into the ground.

'Sodoffyacreepylittlemaggot!Yamother'sagrindylow--'

'No she isn't. Don't talk about my mother like that,' Draco muttered, trying to keep the struggling imp's head from flailing long enough to deposit a drop of Sleeping Potion in its mouth. Apparently they only slept once a year, and then they needed urging. Draco couldn't say he was surprised.

'...keepthatthingawayfrommeorI'llbloodytearyaapart!...'

'Yeh're still bein' too harsh with it, Malfoy,' Hagrid strode over to loosen Draco's hold on the monster. 'Yeh've got to be gentle, see?'

Draco glared at him balefully. 'I've tried being gentle. It usually results in grievous bodily harm.'

'It wouldn't if yeh took the time ter get it ter trust yeh,' Hagrid said. There was a sudden commotion behind him. Weasley had been smuggling something sweet to his much tamer imp and in a bout of jabbering, sugar-induced hyperactivity, it shot out of his hand. Hagrid got out of the way in time, but Draco wasn't so lucky. 

The entire class went silent as Draco pulled the green ball of insanity from his face. Ron took an uncertain step forward. Draco sneered.

'I know it's difficult for your tiny mind to keep a grasp on anything, Weasel, but you could at least try to _look_ as though you can control this thing.'

There was an almost grateful look in Ron's eyes as he retorted. 'Shut up and hand it over, Ferret. At least mine hasn't got a mouth from the sewer.'

Draco glanced down at the black imp in his fist. It was glaring daggers at Ron's, and swearing profusely in an even higher pitch than normal. Without warning, it bit down, hard, on Draco's hand. He gave a pained yelp, automatically releasing the little devils. His imp immediately rushed at Ron's and they became a blur of black-and-green motion rocketing across the lawn. Hagrid swore.

'This is why we pick _this_ time o' year to give 'em the Potions,' he said. 'Damn hormones.' He raised his voice to alert the rest of the class. 'Everyone, spread out! Keep a tight hold on yer imps 'cos if they get away there'll be no stoppin' the fight! Close in around 'em now, don't let 'em get by you...'

The class surrounded the brawling imps and cautiously closed in on them. The velocity of the blurs increased as the space around them grew smaller.

'Careful!' Hagrid barked as a couple of students were nearly hit. 'Keep yer hands in front, don't let 'em bowl yeh over...'

Draco saw Harry hand his imp to Granger, and watched as a familiar, determined looked seeped into the green eyes. Draco had seen the same expression on his face during Quidditch.

_Oh no..._

Potter's eyes followed the rapid movement of the imps for a few seconds before he leaped. Draco stiffened automatically as he watched his hands close around them. Harry was dragged several feet before the imps ricocheted into his face, propelling him backwards.

'Harry!' Hagrid yelled, striding into the middle of the circle. For a tense moment Harry writhed with the imps on the ground. Draco heard several thuds as they smacked into him. Then Potter sat up, the black imp in one hand and the green one in the other. All three looked decidedly the worse for wear.

Hagrid took the imps and Harry stood up slowly, brushing himself off. 'Are yeh all right, Harry?' Hagrid asked him. 'Do yeh need to go to the Infirmary?'

Harry shook his head. 'I'm fine, thanks Hagrid.'

'I think I'll do these two meself,' Hagrid muttered. The Gryffindors closed in around Harry.

Draco let out an explosive breath and turned away. Pansy was a few feet away, looking at him strangely. Their gazes met for only a brief second before she looked away.

Behind him, Draco heard Harry trying to reassure his friends: 'Really, I'm okay!...'

By the end of the lesson, a nice set of purplish bruises had begun to show on Potter's face.

When Professor Fletcher saw Harry's injuries his eyes lit up. He immediately requested Draco attempt to heal him as the practical part of the test.

'You may begin whenever you're ready, Mr Malfoy.'

There was a very awkward pause as Fletcher waited expectantly. The rest of the class had been assigned work from their books and the three of them were standing at the back of the classroom, so no one was watching. Yet Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. It was unnerving, being so close to Harry. His glasses lay on a desk beside him, and his maddening eyes watched Draco's hands warily they rose to make the signs required. Draco felt Potter flinch as he placed his hands over the bruises.

Draco drew a quick breath, trying to push the memory of the kiss from his mind. He felt a crippling urge to caress Harry's face, to pull those lips once again to his. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on what he had to do now. After a moment he felt the tingling warmth in his hands that meant it was working. He stayed there for a second longer than was strictly necessary, feeling Potter begin to relax. Then he dropped his hands to his sides and opened his eyes. The bruises were almost gone.

'Very nicely done, Malfoy,' Fletcher complimented him, making notes in his mark book. Harry raised a hand to his face, prodding tentatively to see whether the pain would come.

'Thank you.'

Draco nodded silently.

'Thank you, Mr Potter,' Fletcher murmured. 'You may return to your bookwork. Mr Malfoy, you may proceed with the theoretical section of the exam.'

The theory, once Draco had forced himself to read the book chapter several times with a dictionary, had been easy to understand. He was done quickly and spent the final ten minutes of the lesson staring into space. When the class was dismissed, he didn't move, not noticing the empty room around him until he felt a tap on the shoulder.

Draco turned in his seat. Behind him was Weasley, a look of thunder on his face. 'Yes, Weasel?'

Ron moved in front of him. 'You leave Harry alone.'

Draco eyed him coolly. 'What do you mean?'

'You know bloody well what I mean! I saw you, I saw the look on your face when you were doing the exam.'

'It isn't that uncommon to be nervous during a test, Muggle-lover.'

Ron growled. 'You were blushing, you—you damn queer! I'm warning you, keep your filthy hands off him!'

Draco looked down at his hands. 'They're not that dirty,' he murmured. 

Ron pulled him up by the collar of his robes. 'Listen to me. Very. Carefully. If you so much as lay a finger on Harry again, you won't need to smash another crucible, because I will kill you myself. Do you understand?' Ron was an inch from Draco's face, his eyes burning.

'All too well.'

There was a small gasp at the door, and they both froze. After an icy second, Ron released Draco and turned around. Professor McGonagall was at the door. She stared from one to the other of them in a moment of shock before recovering and striding into the room.

'Mr Weasley, that's twenty points from Gryffindor and two detentions,' she said tersely. 'How _dare_ you threaten another student like that!' She turned to Draco, looking him up and down with a revulsion that she couldn't quite disguise. 'Mr Malfoy—' she stumbled briefly for words. 'Mr Malfoy, I suggest you go to Professor Snape's office right now.'

Draco nodded, but didn't leave immediately. He fixed her with a penetrating stare. 'Don't tell anyone what you've heard here.' It wasn't a threat, but by no means was it a request either. McGonagall bridled.

'I am not some foolish gossip, Malfoy,' she snapped. 

Draco shrugged, glancing at Ron. 'This is my business. No one else's.'

With that, Draco walked out. He didn't go to Snape's office; walking instead until he had found some long-forgotten corner of the castle. He ground his teeth together in frustration and slammed his fists into the wall, taking odd comfort in the pain. He laid his forehead against the wall, breathing quickly, letting the coolness of the stones seep into him and numb his mind.

He lifted his head a long while later, knowing he would have to tell Snape. If nothing else, he could keep an eye on McGonagall. He looked down the passage and tried to remember the way.

Half an hour later, Draco located the Potions corridor. He knocked on the door to Snape's office.

'Enter if it's important,' the Potions Master called. 'Otherwise, go away.'

Draco opened the door. Snape looked up from a pile of first-year examination papers he was marking and, seeing the look on Draco's face, put his quill down.

'What's happened?'

'McGonagall knows.'

'About what? About everything?' Snape stood up.

Draco shook his head. 'Only about my...persuasion.' He passed a hand wearily over his eyes. 'She said she wouldn't breathe a word, but...'

'Draco,' Snape said quietly, 'I've known Minerva McGonagall for years. If she says she won't speak, she won't. She wasn't made Head of Gryffindor for nothing.'

'Nevertheless.'

Snape nodded, understanding. 'I'll speak to her.'

'Thank you.' There was a pregnant pause.

'Was there something else, Draco?'

Draco felt himself flush under Snape's penetrating gaze. 'I...the Healing examination. Potter was hurt during Care of Magical Creatures, and Fletcher had me heal him.' He spoke quietly, almost to himself. 'I couldn't help...and then Weasley saw...'

'You're not making a lot of sense, Draco.'

Draco staggered backwards until he met the wall, and slid to the floor. He didn't want to look at his Professor, he was shaking slightly. He fought to keep himself under control. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' he whispered. 'I can't stand to be near women; there's only one person in the world I want and he hates me! And even if he didn't, his best friend would kill me if...'

Draco heard the sound of a draw sliding open, and a soft _chink_. Suddenly Snape was kneeling beside him, unstoppering a small bottle filled with a deep brown fluid. 'Calm down. Drink this.'

Draco stared dully at the bottle. 'It's illegal to supply students with alcohol, sir.'

'Then I'm already facing a sentence for encouraging Potter. This isn't liquor; it's a potion. It will help you stay calm.'

Draco, still shaking, grasped the neck of the bottle. He gulped at the liquid, feeling an instantaneous warmth spread inside him. 'Thank you,' he said, handing the bottle back to Snape.

'You're going to have to get used to working around Potter.'

'I don't think I can. I think I'm going to have to get used to avoiding him.'

'That won't work and you know it. If you're going to spy, you'll need to be able to lie and to act completely opposite to the way you feel. I know you can do it. Treat Potter the way a spy would treat him.'

Draco nodded. 'I will. I'll try.'

'Good.' Snape helped him up. 'By the way, I was wondering whether or not you intended on gracing my class with your presence today.'

Draco stared at him. 'No,' he said. 'I don't think so.'

'In that case, we're studying potion transformations. Polyjuice Potion in particular, pages 103 to 113.'

Draco nodded. 'I've been through that section already.'

'Then I want you to begin making a Polyjuice Potion. In the meantime, move into advanced reactions, pages 155 to 160. And Dumbledore wanted me to tell you that there will be a meeting in his office later tonight. It's important.'

'Where is his office?'

'Meet me after classes are done with. I'll show you.'

'Yes, sir.'

Pansy was walking down the corridor when Draco emerged from Snape's office. She stopped in front of him, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. Her usually hard face was uncertain. 'Draco.'

'Hello, Pansy.' He made to move past her, but she blocked his way.

'Draco, I—we need to talk.' She clutched her Potions workbook nervously. Draco waited expectantly. 'I—well—' She fumbled for words. He seemed to be having that effect on people lately. Finally she burst out, 'Why did you do it, Draco? God, why did you even try?' 

Draco gazed at Pansy appraisingly. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere in sight, and she deserved an explanation. But how much could he tell her, without it being dangerous?

'Come with me.' Draco opened the Potions room door and gestured Pansy inside. He leaned on a desk, folding his arms and regarding her intensely. There was a short silence before he spoke.

'I'm not going to stay long and I won't say much. But you should know that it wasn't your fault. Nothing you did.'

'But when I touched you—'

'I know.' Draco dropped his gaze. 'I'm sorry.'

'I don't understand, Draco,' Pansy said in a very small voice.

'You don't need to, really. Just know that joining with the Dark Lord wasn't the only thing that happened to me during the holidays. They were...very eventful.'

There was a short silence. When Pansy recovered her voice, the pity it held made him want to throw up.

'Oh, Draco...' 

He had to shift sideways quickly to evade her reaching hand. Draco looked up at her, a small, rueful smile playing on his lips.

'Sorry. It's not your fault. But I did mean what I said.'

'What—'

Draco shook his head quickly. 'I'm not saying any more,' he said, and shuffled out.

~~~*~~~

Hours later, he met with Snape outside the Professor's office. The Potions Master nodded at him briskly and set off, leading Draco through the castle. They passed through several of the passages Draco had found, and he felt slightly deflated in realising that they weren't so secret as he had imagined. They stopped in front of a large gargoyle sculpted against the wall.

'Fizzing Whizzbee,' Snape said. The gargoyle twisted and leapt sprightly to the side, leaving a gap between the walls where it had stood. Draco followed him through the gap and up the spiralling stairway beyond. Snape paused again to knock on the door at the top of the flight. It was opened and they entered Dumbledore's office.

The circular room was quite crowded. Dumbledore sat at his desk. Grouped around the room were most of the staff, and a few people Draco didn't recognise, most of them murmuring quietly to each other. Snape crossed the room to stand by McGonagall, and muttered something to her. In a few seconds they had progressed into a heated, hushed discussion.

Harry was there, as were Ron and Hermione—Ron had turned to glare savagely at him as he entered, only to have his attention drawn back to Granger a moment later. Draco recognised Remus Lupin standing close to the trio. He slipped further into the crowd, wondering what the werewolf was doing here. Mad-Eye Moody—presumably the real one—hovered near Dumbledore. In front of the desk lay a large black dog, which growled slightly as he and Snape entered. Snape cast the dog a baleful glance as it got up and crossed the room to sit in front of Potter.

Seeing them, the Headmaster rose from his chair, and the room grew silent as attention gradually transferred to him. Albus Dumbledore spoke:

'Welcome, everyone. Before we begin, I would like to introduce several newcomers to our group.' Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Harry, Ron and Hermione. The other occupants of the room followed his gaze. 'I am certain that you all know of Harry here. With him are his close friends Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley who—' Dumbledore smiled; '—rather insisted that they be here as well. Also recently joined with us is Draco Malfoy.' 

Draco felt attention turn to him and he took an involuntary step backward. Most people were looking at him interestedly; others with mild mistrust. Some stared at him in blatant suspicion. Draco noticed that the black dog's hackles rose when Dumbledore spoke his name. 

'Everyone here is, I know, familiar with the Malfoys' history. I am therefore sure that you will be gratified to learn that Draco has decided to break with his past.' Dumbledore emphasised that last phrase and the tension in the room relaxed slightly. Draco saw the Headmaster wink at him and he began to feel a little more certain of himself.

'Finally, I am elated to welcome back a very loyal friend.' Dumbledore nodded at the dog. Its tail wagged briefly before it changed, taking human form.

Draco let out a startled cry of recognition at the sight of the man's face; he'd seen it hundreds of times on Wanted posters during his third year at Hogwarts. He raised his wand, pointing it at the gaunt face of Sirius Black. '_Stupe_—'

'_Expelliarmus_!' Snape's voice cracked sharply over Draco's and his wand shot out of his hand, falling uselessly to the floor.

Draco took a panicked step backwards, his eyes skirting about the room and coming to settle on Dumbledore.

'Draco,' the old man began gently, but he cut across his voice.

'What the hell are you playing at here?' Draco stammered. He looked about the room again. 'Murderers, werewolves...Death Eaters...' His eye fell upon Mad-Eye Moody. '...madmen...'

'If you would kindly calm down, Draco, I could explain.' There was an uncharacteristic edge to Dumbledore's voice.

'I don't want to hear!' Draco snapped. He turned on his heel and, throwing the oak door open, ran from the room.

Draco was pacing, agitated, up and down the corridor when Snape burst past the gargoyle after him.

'What was that?' his teacher snapped. 'You never even gave him a chance to explain!'

'What is there to explain? He's got a bunch of lunatics—and worse—working for him!'

'Dumbledore trusts them, Draco, the same way he trusts us. Can't that be enough for you?'

'No, it can't! I still don't know why he trusts me; I wouldn't. Lupin is a werewolf—' Draco shuddered convulsively.

'—Who drinks a potion every month to ensure he's harmless when he transforms!'

'And Black—he's a gods-damned murderer, Snape! My father used to speak of him like he was some sort of god—'

'Ah, what's this, high morals from a Malfoy?' Snape jeered. Draco paled, his eyes wide, and the sneer abruptly dropped from the Professor's face. 'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I didn't mean that. But it probably is what several people inside that room are thinking right now.'

'Including Weasel,' Draco muttered, chewing his knuckle pensively. He had stopped pacing.

'Listen to me, Draco. I found out about this at the end of last year. I was—well, my reaction was nothing next to yours, but I was none too pleased. After I had made contact with the Dark Lord again, Dumbledore told me the truth. Sirius Black was never a Death Eater, and he never committed those murders.' Snape's expression twisted momentarily into one of derision. 'I should have known, really. No one as close to James Potter as Sirius Black was, could ever have become something so evil as a Death Eater, oh no. It takes a Slytherin to accomplish something like that. That or a weak will,' Snape added. He shook his head as though to dislodge his thoughts. 'Black never committed the murders. He was framed by Peter Pettigrew, who I'm sure you know about. He was also the one who betrayed the Potter family.'

'Pettigrew...' Draco whispered to himself. 'So that's why the little rat is always clinging to the Dark Lord's heels...'

'That and the fact that he helped Voldemort rise again last year, yes.' Draco shuddered. Snape gave him an odd look. 'Didn't you ever wonder how someone supposedly murdered by Black suddenly reappeared at Voldemort's side?'

'We were told it was a set-up,' Draco replied. 'It was supposed to keep suspicions away from Black and Pettigrew both; they were meant to Apparate away during the explosion, but Black was caught.'

'I see.' Snape paused. 'He's Potter's godfather.'

Draco remained silent.

'Draco,' Snape said, more gently now, 'You can't run away from every little thing that upsets you.'

'I don't!' Draco snapped.

'No? All right. But you're doing it too often lately. You've got to be stronger than this.'

'Fine.'

'And Draco?'

He looked up, questioning.

'If you are going to run away, do it properly. None of this half-baked rush-out-of-the-room-then-wait-in-the-corridor nonsense. If you decide you want to get away, get right away. Otherwise it doesn't work. Now come on.'

Snape ushered Draco back up the staircase and into Dumbledore's office. The room was deathly still when they entered and Draco felt every eye in the room swivel to rest on him. Even the past headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were glaring down from their vantage points in the myriad paintings hung on the walls. Draco ignored them, looking only at Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Moody, and finally settling his gaze on Dumbledore.

'I overreacted,' he said, knowing it wasn't enough. 'I'm sorry.'

Dumbledore's head bowed slightly in acknowledgment. 'It was understandable.' He straightened up and cast his gaze about the room. 

Draco noticed that many in the group relaxed visibly with the old wizard's next words. Certain others, including Black, stiffened proudly.

'Without further ado, I declare the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix during the Second Uprising, begun.'


	4. Blindness

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: Note the rating: if you're under fifteen years old, you shouldn't be here. The chapter features slash and het. If you can't handle all of that, you shouldn't have got this far.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:Kimagure, chasati (I'm deliberately making the chapters long so that there's more story in each one…it wouldn't really make me update much faster—I'm a lazy writer ^^;;. Thank you.), Darkrose (Unfortunately, Lucius has a 'Get out of Jail Free' card in this story. Maybe we can do some really evil things to him next time around. Suggestions?), sm (Thank you. I do rather enjoy it, yes. ^_^), Thalia, Jessica (You're right, this is my version of the fifth book—not that I'm anticipating Order of the Phoenix to be anything like this.), SoulSister, Ninsetta Tristel Sundar, Angel, Ostia, Kuroi Atropos, Penelope-Z, Rilar Cray, Myr, Juliana Black, Lynx, Star, Demeter, aXe, Britt, Courtney, S. Maldiva (Many thanks! Yep, Ron and McGonagall are going to have a rough time learning to get around the fact of Draco—especially Ron.), stoned phreak, Kcarke (Pansy? Wow. She's almost the one person in the fic so far that I can't make myself like. I picked McGonagall because she's so strict, and has a very clearly defined view about proper behaviour. Besides, I had to give her something other than Quidditch for her to squabble with Snape over.), Sparkle Rose, Azzie, Luca.

****

All Torn Down: Blindness

Cry for the eye

that has cried for you

and feel merciful for the heart

that has felt for you

—Proverb of Gabra People

'The stakes now are very close,' Dumbledore went on. He had drawn himself up to his full height, and looked very serious and almost regal. The general effect was a long way from the merry wizard Harry had come to know. 'Cornelius Fudge continues to refuse to admit the rebirth of the Dark Lord, and this will make it difficult to gain the aid of the Ministry. There are, however, those who are willing to help us in any way they can, and their names will be made known through the correspondence of the Weasley family.' Beside Harry, Ron grinned proudly at the mention of his family. 'Be warned: information to the Ministry of Magic could easily fall into dangerous hands. Be careful. Voldemort has his insiders as well.

'Which brings me to the matter of Draco. During the summer holidays he and a number of other children were recruited as Death Eaters. Draco has revoked the Mark and is willing to turn spy for us. There are many more who continue in their association with the Dark Side, some who we know of; others who remain hidden. The names we know are Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Bulstrode, Warren and Berald.' 

Harry listened keenly; this was something he hadn't heard before. He glanced curiously at Draco; had he really given up all this information so willingly?

Draco stood tall now that attention had turned from him to Dumbledore, although his eyes still skirted about the room from time to time. He had a determined glint in his eye—he looked, Harry thought, like someone with something to prove.

Draco's gaze shifted about the room again, his eyes coming to rest for a moment on Sirius before they transferred to Harry. Harry saw him flush in the split second in which their gazes met; then he looked away. Harry returned his attention to Dumbledore.

'—Will need far greater evidence against them this time. Harry, you must avoid those students at all costs. Voldemort still wants you dead—' A shiver ran down Harry's spine at the frank tone of the Headmaster's voice. '—and if his plan succeeds we are all lost.'

'What's the situation with Azkaban?' Sirius asked suddenly beside him. His messages to Harry since last year had often contained questions about the prison; he was very worried about the concept of the Dementors joining Voldemort. Harry didn't blame him.

'Cornelius remains unpersuaded. The Dementors still guard it, although other members of the Ministry are beginning to push for their withdrawal. Voldemort has not attempted to retrieve the Death Eaters imprisoned there yet, but it can only be a matter of time.'

Sirius gave a sour grunt.

'And what about the giants?' came the sharp voice of Arabella Figg, the new Defence Against Dark Arts teacher. Harry had nearly fallen out of his chair during their first lesson—she was none other than his old, cat-crazy babysitter. She was no better now he knew her as a witch, either—there had been a marked increase in the cat population of Hogwarts since her arrival. He wondered what his aunt and uncle would have thought if they knew the truth about their trusted Mrs Figg.

'Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons is still negotiating with them; her school is temporarily being run by young Fleur Delacour. However, things seem to be moving in our favour at this point.'

'Good, then.'

'Finally, Voldemort has called a gathering of Death Eaters, to take place outside of Hogsmeade in two weeks. If there are any students out of bed at night during that weekend, try to keep them from leaving Hogwarts. Draco and Severus will be there, and perhaps some more light will be shed on the Dark Lord's plan.' Dumbledore looked directly at Snape at this point. Sirius was as well, though his glare was laden with contempt. 'Be careful. Don't place yourselves in more danger than is necessary.'

Snape nodded.

'Does anyone have anything further to add?' The question was met with silence. 'Then, until the passing of the month, we are adjourned.'

The gathering dispersed quickly. Harry, Ron and Hermione stayed until most of the others had left. Harry saw Draco pause as he was about to follow Snape out the door. He half-turned as though he was going to say something to Dumbledore, but thought better of it and disappeared.

'The Malfoy boy?' Sirius said when they were alone with the Headmaster. 'Are you sure, sir?'

'I trust him.'

'Yes, but...his family...'

'Judging people by their bloodline is what has caused our present predicament, Sirius. Draco can be trusted, believe me. Or, if you will not, Harry can vouch for him.'

Sirius turned. 'Harry?'

Harry nodded gravely. 'He'll be fine, Sirius.'

'Besides,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'I don't believe that Draco Malfoy could ever cross Harry.'

All four of them looked back at him sharply. Harry's eyes widened at the thought of what Dumbledore's meaning could be, and what he might say to Sirius.

'What do you mean?' his godfather asked.

_Don't tell him!_

'You don't know this, but Draco tried some weeks ago to kill himself. He very nearly succeeded; fortunately Harry and Severus were able to save him. He owes them both wizards' bonds.'

Harry's jaw dropped. 'A wizard's bond? As in _Pettigrew_?'

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him. 'The very same.'

Harry became aware that his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. 'Wow. I never thought of that...'

'Yes. So if you get into trouble with those students I mentioned, I think you should see Draco. He will be able to help more directly than anyone else.'

'Yes sir.'

'Now you should get to bed, all of you. Minerva will never forgive me if I don't let you sleep.'

'Good night, Harry,' Sirius said. Harry looked up at him and grinned. His godfather smiled back, ruffling his hair. 'It's been good to see you again.'

'You too.'

'Night, Sirius,' Ron and Hermione's voices were muffled by each other and their own tiredness. 'Night, Professor Dumbledore.'

Dumbledore smiled at them. 'Good night, children,' he said softly as the three of them filed out.

'Wow,' Ron said as they trooped towards Gryffindor tower. 'I suppose that was the 'old group' he was talking about last year. I wonder why they call it the Order of the Phoenix?'

'Probably something to do with Fawkes,' Harry muttered.

'Who?'

'Dumbledore's phoenix. Didn't you see him?'

'No. Wasn't looking, I suppose. Wasn't Dumbledore fantastic? He's a lot different this year...'

'He's worried,' Hermione said, biting her lip. She glanced down a side-passage as they passed, and paused.

'What's up?' Ron asked. Hermione pointed. A pale-haired figure was loping away from them between the pools of light cast by torches hanging from the walls on either side.

'What is he doing still here?'

'Probably just looking for somewhere to sleep,' Harry murmured.

Ron chuckled. 'Did you see his face when he saw Sirius? What I wouldn't give for a photograph—'

Harry sighed. 'Leave him be, Ron.'

Both his friends glanced at each other over his head, frowning. 'What's wrong, Harry?' Hermione asked him.

'Nothing. I'm just tired,' he muttered.

They continued to Gryffindor tower in silence. At some point, Ron migrated to Hermione's side and they walked together, brushing fingertips. 

'Phantasmagoria,' Hermione whispered to the Fat Lady, who winked at them as the painting swung open. The common room was empty.

There was a very brief, awkward silence as Ron and Hermione paused at the door to the girl's dormitory, before Ron muttered a hasty 'good night', his cheeks flaming. Hermione vanished up the stairway and the two boys made their way up to their own dormitory.

'G'night, Harry.'

'Night, Ron.'

A few minutes later Ron's snores punctuated the silence of the night. Harry stared at the ceiling for while, thinking of nothing in particular, before rolling over on the mattress and allowing his weary eyes to close.

~~~*~~~

Harry was prodded awake by Seamus. The blond boy grinned at his disgruntled image. 'You were snoring louder than Dean. What on earth were you doing up so late last night?'

'Secret,' Harry mumbled, sitting up. Seamus leaned back, frowning slightly.

'Yeah,' he said absently. 'There are a lot of those going around lately...'

'You make them sound like diseases.' Harry said, amused, as he hunted in his trunk for a clean robe. Seamus winked at him.

'Secrets can cause an awful lot of trouble sometimes. You coming to Hogsmeade today?'

Harry blinked. 'That's right, it's the weekend, isn't it?'

'You really didn't get much sleep last night, did you?'

'Shut up. I completely forgot about Hogsmeade.' He snorted. 'What sort of question is that, _will you come_?. Of course I am!'

'Then you'd better hurry up because McGonagall's ousting us in ten minutes.'

Harry swore. Seamus's laughter followed him into the bathroom.

~~~*~~~

It was a bright morning. Hogsmeade was invaded by a stampede of third-to-seventh years, eager to be free of the school grounds. The largest crowds were around Honeydukes and Zonko's. Harry caught sight of Fred and George coming out of the joke shop and waved. The twins had missed the first week of term due to an accident which occurred while they were experimenting with their own joke ideas during the holidays. The pair grinned and waved back at him. Obviously, they remained cheerfully undaunted.

Ahead of him, Hermione was dragging Ron to a recently-opened bookshop, despite his protests that they'd miss out on all the best sweets at Honeydukes. Harry grinned and ran to catch up with them.

'—wouldn't kill you to read a good book every so often, you know!' the shop door banged closed behind them.

'I do! I just don't like thousand-page chronicles about some dead wizard!'

'Unless he happens to have been a famous Quidditch player?'

'Of course,' Ron said, looking affronted.

'You're impossible!' Hermione stormed away to the shelves. Harry couldn't help chuckling at their bickering, but stopped at the pained look on Ron's face.

'Why does she insist on fighting all the time?'

Harry stared at his friend. 'Why does _she_—? Ron, since when have you tried to stop her!'

Ron shrugged sheepishly and they went to find Hermione. She was eventually discovered kneeling at the end of a row of shelves, poring over a book on Arithmancy.

'Mione?' Ron ventured.

'Mmm?' She didn't look up immediately, waiting until she'd finished reading the paragraph. 'Yes, Ron?'

'Sorry.'

Hermione gave a bright smile. 'That's all right. I found the book I wanted anyway. Honeydukes next?'

Ron grinned, and so did Harry, behind his shoulder. 'Yeah.'

So after Hermione had paid for the book they went and ransacked Honeydukes. The shop was left with noticeably less merchandise than before the trio had entered.

Pockets bulging with sweets, they opted next to visit the Three Broomsticks. Someone leaving the pub bowled into Harry as he entered, and he caught a brief glimpse of grey eyes before Draco muttered, 'Sorry,' and paced away.

Ron had ordered three Butterbeers for them all. They sat at a table in the corner, where they could watch the world come and go. Harry sipped at his Butterbeer thoughtfully and grinned as Ron handed him a Chocolate Frog.

'Love these things...'Ron groaned as Hermione pulled out her Arithmancy book. 'For God's sake, 'Mione, can't you keep your nose out of one of them for ten minutes?—Hey, you got Agrippa! Give over, I've been looking for that card forever!'

'I'm just looking up something I've been having trouble with,' Hermione said as Harry handed over the card.

'Trouble? You?' Ron laughed.

'It's for an advanced assignment...' Hermione continued to flick pages. She looked up irritably as Ron put a hand on her arm. 'What? I'm only going to be a minute, I'll put it away once I've...'

'Sh. It's not that.' Ron pointed at the bar. Snape had entered the pub and was talking to Madam Rosmerta. She nodded and smiled at him, and he sat at a small table fenced by two chairs, on the opposite side of the room. The Potions Master rested his chin on his hands and stared into space.

'What's he doing here?'

'I'm sure there's nothing wrong with a Professor coming into Hogsmeade. There was a whole group at our first visit in third year, remember?'

'Yes, but that was right at the end of the term. They were letting loose like everyone else. Anyway, this is Snape we're talking about, Hermione. As in not-really-the-social-type.' Ron shook his head. 'Something's off.'

Snape didn't move when Rosmerta set down a pair of drinks in front of him: a Gillywater and a tankard of something frothy. He did look up, however, when Professor McGonagall entered. She looked about for a few seconds before spotting him and went straight over. Snape smiled and said something inaudible as she sat down. McGonagall laughed. So did Harry and Ron, snorting into their Butterbeers.

Hermione shushed them, watching the pair's conversation carefully. Snape and McGonagall regarded each other with sharp intensity; from time to time they looked as though they were on the verge of breaking into an argument. But they never quite got there. Finally McGonagall nodded and they shook hands.

Ron was wiping tears of amusement from his eyes. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's go. This is too much!'

The three of them burst out laughing once they were clear of the door. 

'Snape and McGonagall!' Ron chortled. 'Snape and—oh help, I can't breathe!' He steadied himself against a wall, clutching his stomach.

'Now wait a minute,' Hermione said, a traitor grin tugging at her mouth. 'There's got to be a reasonable explanation...'

'Yeah, 'Mione, you keep working on that. In the meantime, I'm going to frame that picture in my memory...it'll be right up there with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret...'

'Ron, are you okay?'

They turned to see Ginny, bemusedly staring at them. She had obviously been through Honeydukes too. Harry surmised that the Weasleys had made a major contribution to the general income of Hogsmeade over the years.

Ron fought to keep a straight face. 'Fine, Ginny. I'm absolutely perfect at the moment.' 

McGonagall emerged from the tavern, sending them into fits of suppressed merriment once more. Ginny began to laugh with them, unaware of the joke.

'What's funny?' Ginny spun at the sound of Neville's voice as he ambled towards them from the bookshop. Hermione eyed the large bundle of books he was carrying enviously. 'Hi, Ginny.'

'Hi, Neville.'

'Um...shout you a Butterbeer?'

Ginny grinned. 'Thanks.'

'Okay. I'll just need some change...' One of Neville's books fell to the ground as he fumbled for coins in his pocket. 'Oh, damn! You'd think I could manage to carry a few books by now, wouldn't you? Thanks, Ginny.'

She bent down to pick the offending item up for him, and let out an excited squeak when she saw the cover. 'I've been looking for this in the library! Couldn't find it anywhere.'

'It's new. They probably haven't been able to buy a copy yet.' Neville smiled shyly as they entered the Three Broomsticks. 'You can borrow it if you want...' The door swung to behind them.

Ron blinked. 'What was that about?'

'_Herbology For the New Millennium_,' Hermione said, nodding wisely. 'That's a good read, too. I got it in Diagon Alley this year.' She shrugged, smiling at their incredulous faces. 'It's probably just something in the water. Maybe Fred and George have been pranking again. It'll wear off sooner or later and everyone will return to their senses.'

Harry caught sight of Cho Chang walking down the street ahead of them. 'Yeah...' he said. 'Well, before it does, there's something I want to do...' He scowled at Ron's grin. 'Not a word. See you.'

'See you. Good luck, Harry,' Hermione said, nudging Ron to stop him grinning. Harry looked over his shoulder as he walked towards Cho, and sighed. The pair had already descended into another argument.

'Cho,' he called as he neared her. The Ravenclaw girl looked around. For once she wasn't surrounded by her friends and, remembering their giggling when he'd asked her to the Yule Ball last year, Harry felt very grateful.

'Oh...hi, Harry.'

'Hi.' A slight smile curved her mouth as Harry fidgeted nervously. 'Er...d'you mind if I walk with you for a bit?'

'Not at all.'

'Right. Thanks.' Harry felt his ears flame as he walked beside her, but at least he kept from blushing completely. 'Look, about Cedric—'

'I'd really rather not talk about him,' Cho interrupted him.

'Oh. Sorry.'

'It's okay.' Cho looked up at the sky for a second. 'Actually, on second thought, I think I would like to talk about him. Just be warned: you may end up with a wet shoulder.'

'That's okay.'

'Do you mind if we go back to Hogwarts? If I'm going to end up bawling, I'd rather not do it in public.'

Harry smiled. 'Fine. Come on.'

As they walked back towards the school grounds, Harry caught sight of Ron and Hermione, standing across the way from them. He grinned and decided Hermione must have been right about there being something in the water. His friends were holding hands and as he watched, Ron leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek. His face was as red as his hair.

'About time they got together,' Cho murmured, following his gaze. She smiled gently at Harry's astonished expression. 'I'm in Ravenclaw, Harry. Intelligent, remember? Although to be honest I think Goyle could probably have made that particular deduction with a bit of prodding.'

Harry sighed, smiling to himself. 'Probably.'

They continued past the school gates. Harry thought Cho would stop by the lake for some reason, but she continued onward, and he followed her. Finally she stopped and sat against a wall of the castle itself, staring away into the Forbidden Forest. She glanced at him as he settled beside her and grinned.

'You thought I was heading for the lake, didn't you?' Harry nodded. Cho shrugged. 'Lake's not a safe place to go any more. It's getting too crowded.' She laughed at Harry's baffled face. 'Everyone goes and sits by the lake when they want to mope, Harry. And just lately, everyone seems to want to mope. I've seen you there. Ginny Weasley, too. Malfoy's been there a lot.'

'Has he?'

She nodded. 'So has Professor Snape.' Cho leaned back against the wall. 'I think that man's got quite a past.'

'Too true,' Harry murmured grimly. Cho glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

'He's told you, has he? It's okay, I'm not about to pry. But I did a tarot reading on him once, and I have to say the spread was...most interesting.'

Harry gaped. 'He let you do a reading on him?'

Cho laughed. 'Not in so many words. I had my tarot pack out during Potions once. Snape was in a foul mood and he threw the cards across the room. Wouldn't let me pick them up until after class. Anyway, he hadn't exactly shuffled them for me, but I thought it was close enough, and I did a reading during Divination.' Cho paused. When she spoke again, she sounded amused. 'One of the cards was stained by some spilt potion. I always thought the fact that card ended up representing Snape himself was very appropriate.'

Harry grinned, but faltered, realising he may have just found a major character flaw in Cho. He glanced sidelong at her, then said: 'So...you like Divination, do you?'

She caught the wary note in his voice. 'Trelawney puts you off, doesn't she? I've heard about some of the things she predicts about you.'

'I die every lesson.'

Cho winked at him. 'No wonder You-Know-Who's never been able to get you, then. You've had so much practice in Divination, you must be immortal by now.'

Harry shuddered. 'Please don't joke about it.'

'Sorry.' She tilted her head. 'Yes, I like Divination. It can be a very fascinating branch of magic.'

'But Professor Trelawney—'

Cho laughed. 'Never let a teacher get in the way of learning, Harry.'

'Hermione hates it; she dropped Divination after her very first lesson. Says it's far too inaccurate.'

'Well, Hermione prefers things to be solid and safe, I think. I'm in Arithmancy with her.' Cho shuddered. 'Awful, strict type of magic, but it has its uses.'

'That's Hermione's favourite subject.'

'Don't tell her I said that, then. Divination can be quite inaccurate, but sometimes it can hit the nail a lot faster than most other types of magic, too. And not everything in the world has to be so...defined.' She grinned. 'So, did I pass?'

Harry nodded.

Cho closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall, the smile fading slowly from her face. 'And then there is always the hope that if I become good enough, I'll be able to contact Cedric's spirit...'

Harry was lost for words for a long moment, struck by the sadness in her voice. He suddenly felt that he was invading something very personal. 'He really meant that much to you?'

'I don't know. But I miss him, and there were a few things...' Cho laughed softly. 'Just a few little things I never got to tell him, that he'd like to know.' She sniffed suddenly, and Harry realised that her eyes were glistening with tears. Cho dashed her hand against her eyes, smiling crookedly through the tears. 'Sorry. I knew this would happen...'

She couldn't stop the tears, and Harry reached out to her. He felt her stiffen as he put his arm around her, then relax as he pulled her gently into a hug. Cho cried silently into his shoulder.

'Thank you, Harry,' she said eventually. 'You're sweet.'

Harry blushed, even more so when she lifted her head and pecked him on the cheek. 'Thank you,' he muttered. Harry frowned. _Should I...?_ 'Um...Cho?'

'Yes, Harry?' Her brown eyes were clear now, if red-rimmed, and she was looking at him expectantly.

_I can't tell her._

'Good luck against Slytherin next week,' he said lamely. 

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. 'Thank you.'

They sat in silence for a while; neither of them could think of anything further to say. Cho didn't seem to mind, though, so Harry decided he didn't either, especially in view of the fact that she was still leaning against him.

Finally she said, 'We should probably go back to Hogsmeade.'

Harry sighed. 'Probably.' He stood up and helped Cho to her feet.

'It's nice to know you like being around me,' Cho chuckled at his forlorn expression. Harry shrugged, feeling foolish. 'Come on. You don't want to let Ron and Hermione get _too_ involved on their first date.'

He blinked. 'Good point.'

They rounded the corner. Harry stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the figure by the edge of the lake, kicking stones into the water.

'My God, he's everywhere,' he murmured.

'He must still be feeling pretty awful about himself,' Cho said. 'Can you imagine being so unhappy that you don't want to live any more?' She shivered. 'I wonder what made him do it?'

'Mm.'

Cho stared at him. 'You know why, don't you? He told you.'

'Yes.' He caught the look in her eye and added hurriedly, 'I promised that I wouldn't tell anyone else.'

Cho's eyes narrowed speculatively for a brief moment before she shrugged. 'I suppose that's fair,' she said.

Draco had stopped kicking rocks and stood staring sourly at the lake's surface, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes. He said something Harry couldn't make out, spun, and stalked into the castle. 

'One of these days I'll have to do a reading on him...' Cho murmured as they began to walk again towards Hogsmeade. Harry laughed.

'I doubt he'd shuffle the cards for you.'

'I'll just leave the pack in the way of his foot the next time he feels like kicking things into the lake,' she said. 'Then I'll need some Gillyweed to collect the cards up again.'

'Snape has some in his office, I think.' Harry tried to sound nonchalant. Cho seemed serious.

'I'll have to make him give me detention, then. Shouldn't be too difficult...although he is less irascible these days. Must be losing his touch.'

'Maybe he's just got his mind on other things.'

Cho's eyebrow arched. 'Like what, Harry?'

'Oh, just...things.'

'More that you've promised not to tell about?' Harry nodded. 'All right. I won't ask then.'

When they reached Hogsmeade, Cho was immediately called over by a friend. She smiled goodbye to Harry and walked away.

Harry walked through the streets, searching for a glimpse of Ron and Hermione. They weren't in any of the trio's favourite haunts; he poked his head in at the Three Broomsticks, noted their absence in conjunction with that of Snape's, and stepped out again before Ginny and Neville spotted him. For some reason he didn't really feel like speaking to them right at that moment.

For about fifteen seconds Harry considered looking in the Shrieking Shack, then decided that the fact they hadn't returned there since third year had to mean something. He gave up and retreated back to Hogwarts, then further back to Gryffindor Tower.

'Gonfalon's ferule.'

The portrait swung around and Harry stepped into the common room to hear Hermione deliver a terrifying ultimatum:

'Go ahead, read it. I dare you.'

She and Ron were perched on two armchairs which had been dragged in front of the fire, facing each other. She hefted a large tome from her lap and passed it solemnly to Ron; Harry recognised it as her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_.

Harry stood motionless. The tension in the room was tangible.

Ron gripped the cover of the book and stared at it tensely. He opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it; opened it again.

'What happens if I say no?'

Hermione leaned forward, fixating Ron with her brown eyes. He began to look decidedly nervous. 'Then,' she said softly. 'The day's work is undone.'

Ron winced. 'Please?'

Hermione sat back again and folded her arms, smug. 'I'm tired of being the only one in the House who's read that book, Ron. Besides,' she added, flashing a lopsided grin. 'You know all those little arguments we have when you can't understand what I'm talking about? After going through that, most of those will probably go. Hello, Harry.'

Ron's gaze turned quickly to Harry. 'Hi.' The message in his eyes was painted in large, neon letters: _Get me out of here_. Harry shrugged helplessly, and a dejected Ron turned back.

'Can't I at least have some time to think about it?' he pleaded.

Her eyes narrowed. There was silence for a long moment. Suddenly she broke into a bright smile. 'You have until the end of the week.' 

She stood, patted a stunned Ron gently on the shoulder, and disappeared into the girls' dormitory.

Harry crossed the room and sat where Hermione had been, regarding his friend with mild amusement. 'Care to explain what that was all about?'

Ron blinked a few times and began to smile. 'We're very nearly, almost officially, an item.'

Harry grinned back. 'Well done.'

'Only...' Ron faltered and glared down at the book in his hands. 'Only now she's saying it's not going to happen unless I read this damn thing.' He clicked his tongue irritably. 'What _is_ it with girls?'

'I don't know. I would read the book, though.'

'Yeah...' Ron sighed heavily. 'I suppose I'll have to.' He brightened a little. 'She kissed me, you know.'

'Really?' Harry cocked his head to the side. 'As in a peck on the cheek, or...'

'No, it was the real thing. Caught me completely by surprise. It was a bit embarrassing actually, because we were right outside Zonko's and Fred and George were just going in again. They're going to let me have it for weeks, I could tell by their grins.' Ron straightened suddenly and looked about the empty common room. 'How about we go to the dormitory? They'll be coming back soon and I'd rather not have their laughter ringing in my ears when I go to bed tonight.'

Harry conceded and they headed up the stairway. The common room was left silent and empty once again.

The silence was broken by a snort. Anyone wanting to get into the Gryffindor common room at that moment would have been confronted by a teary-eyed Fat Lady holding an embroidered handkerchief. She lifted it to her face and blew her nose again.

'Ah, romance,' she sobbed happily.

~~~*~~~

When curfew came that night, Harry curled in his bed and grinned into the darkness. All in all, he thought, the day had been a good one.

Fred and George had left Ron alone when they returned from Hogsmeade, with the result that his friend had spent several hours shifting slowly through degrees of surprise, suspicion until he hit upon an unexpected sense of security and stayed there. Whether it was a false sense or not was yet to be seen.

Hermione wore a mysterious smirk all evening. She didn't speak to either Harry or Ron very much. Harry had the distinct feeling she was deliberately manoeuvring Ron into reading the _History_. He didn't say anything to Ron because he had another, equally distinct feeling that Hermione was operating to a very exact plan and would kill him if he did anything to sabotage it.

And his own day...

Harry closed his eyes and curled even tighter, thinking of Cho. Her voice, her laugh...the feel of her against him...her lips on his cheek, just briefly...

With that thought, Harry slipped into slumber.

... ... 

... ... 'No.' Draco closed the distance between them, and for a split second Harry felt uneasy at his proximity.

_What is he playing at?_

The next instant all thought was shocked out of him as Draco leaned forward, simultaneously holding Harry's head to keep him from stepping back as he kissed him. His wand twitched, an automatic reflex. Draco's free hand snaked down his arm and Harry felt the wand slip from his fingers as Draco's interlocked with them. He was dimly aware of the sound of it hitting the floor as he was pushed against the wall. Draco's hand was oddly soft around his head. His fingers stroked through the tangles of Harry's hair.

Harry tried to push him off with his remaining hand, but Draco was much stronger than him. His mouth clamped shut tight, his lips compressed into a thin line; his final defence. He was painfully aware that it was a feeble one.

Draco parted his mouth slightly and Harry felt the soft touch of his tongue on his lips. Finally Draco stepped away. His voice was a whisper:

'Harry...'

... ... 

... ... Harry woke. He blinked a few times, and frowned. 'No,' he said firmly into the darkness. 'Cho.'

He rolled over and returned to sleep.

~~~*~~~

The next week passed in a blur of exams. Care of Magical Creatures and Divination were easy. Charms and Transfiguration Harry was less certain about. What he was certain about was that he would be lucky to pass the History of Magic and Potions exams.

For almost everyone in the school, the upcoming Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw was the light at the end of a very long and hectic tunnel.

The day arrived in shades of grey. It began to drizzle as the school began to head for the Quidditch field.

The teams met in the middle of the field. The Slytherins reeked of animosity, and Harry realised suddenly how large and brutish the team was this year, with the exception of Draco. The Ravenclaws were dwarfed by them.

A chill wind cut through the stands, making the entire student body shiver as Madam Hooch walked out to the centre of the field. The four balls were released and shot up into the air. The Snitch disappeared almost immediately. A second later the whistle blew and the game began.

'Ravenclaw in possession of the Quaffle, Chasers making their way down the field very quickly there—Slytherin Chasers catching up—Ravenclaw Gemaine passes to Langley, Langley knocked by Slytherin's Larson—the Quaffle has been dropped! Gemaine recovers—'

Harry watched keenly as the Ravenclaw Chaser shot toward the Slytherin hoops and threw the Quaffle at them. The Slytherin Keeper raced to block it, but the red ball sailed effortlessly past him.

'GOAL TO RAVENCLAW!'

Alongside of the Gryffindors, most of Ravenclaw was on its feet and screaming jubilantly.

'Quaffle returned to the field now--Ravenclaw in possession again! Wait, no--what are Slytherin trying to do?'

All three of the Slytherin Chasers had formed a ring around Gemaine. They moved with him, and occasionally took a swipe at the Quaffle. In desperation the Ravenclaw Chaser tried to pass the Quaffle to Langley, but Larson shot through the air after it--

'—Slytherin in possession now and heading down the field like hell's bells--'

Harry transferred his attention to Cho. She and Draco both hovered over opposing sides of the field, motionless but for the turn of a head in search of the Snitch. Harry hunted for a glimpse of the little ball himself, but it was a futile effort.

Abruptly Draco shot forward and downwards. Cho stared ahead of him for a second before speeding after him; Harry, too, saw the flash of gold dancing away from them. The commentator was concentrating on a scuffle for the Quaffle and didn't see the Seekers' plunge.

The Snitch was gone in the next second and the two Seekers righted themselves.

'SLYTHERIN GOAL!'

A celebratory outcry arose from the Slytherin stands. Harry glanced along to where Snape was sitting. To his amazement, the man was smirking proudly and clapping with the rest of the House.

The Quaffle was back in play. The smile dropped from Snape's face when, ten minutes later, Ravenclaw scored a goal.

Harry's eye was caught by a sudden movement by Cho. She was leaning down against her broomstick, moving quickly upwards with her eye on the Golden Snitch above her.

'—Ravenclaw's Seeker looks to have spotted something, heading up quickly--Slytherin's Malfoy coming fast after her but it doesn't look as though he'll make it—WHAT WAS THAT!'

The commentator's furious bellow was lost on Harry's ears as he shot to his feet, white-faced. A Bludger, beaten to her with vicious force by Crabbe, impacted sharply with Cho's side. Most of the school—including some Slytherins—were screaming abuse at the boorish Beater. Harry didn't hear any of it. All he was aware of was a vision of Cho, thrown off her broom and dropping through the air.

'Cho!' he screamed. '_Cho_!'

Draco pulled up sharply. To Harry's eternal astonishment and gratitude he put a hand out in an effort to catch her as she fell past him. He missed, and Cho plunged on.

Below Draco, Gemaine had abandoned the Quaffle, directing his broom upwards instead. He caught the full blow of Cho's weight and momentum and he dropped several feet before climbing up through the air again to restore her to her broom, which hovered innocently as though nothing had happened. Harry let out an explosive breath and sat down again.

'Are you okay, Harry?' Hermione asked quietly, putting a hand on his arm.

Harry nodded. His hands were shaking.

Madam Hooch had flown up and was shouting at a grimly scowling Crabbe. The scowl was replaced momentarily with a look of utter surprise when Draco began shouting at him as well, but returned as play resumed.

'Free shot to Ravenclaw, and deservedly so after that shocking display by Slytherin's Beater,' there was a slight tremor in the commentator's voice. 'Langley shoots the Quaffle through—Slytherin fail to block—Ravenclaw goal!'

The play was deadly after that. The Quaffle changed from hand to hand; goals were blocked; the Bludgers sailed across the field with gathering force. The Snitch was nowhere to be seen. Both Seekers floated helplessly over the field, dodging Bludgers and searching for a glimpse of gold.

Draco rocked suddenly forward. A Bludger hit by one of Ravenclaw's Beaters rebounded against his back. Harry stiffened and bit his lip as he watched; he could almost see Draco cry out in pain. The Seeker whirled about furiously, but the Beater merely glared at him for a second before returning his attention to the game.

'Did you see that?' Harry growled to Ron and Hermione. 'That wasn't fair. He tried to catch Cho!'

'He's Slytherin, Harry,' Ron said grimly, still watching the field. 'They need to be put in their place.'

Hermione frowned at Ron, but he wasn't paying attention. 'Seekers are always prime targets,' she told Harry. 'You know that. And you can't blame Ravenclaw for wanting to retaliate.'

Harry wanted to, nevertheless.

A second later the Golden Snitch appeared.

Draco saw it first, hanging in the air above and behind Cho. Harry saw him nudge his broom into motion almost nonchalantly, and it was a moment before Cho realised what he was doing. She spun and took after him as he brushed past her. They picked up speed and soon were locked together in a tight race. The Snitch danced tantalisingly ahead of them both.

'Come on Cho,' Harry murmured. 'Come on—come on Cho!'

As though she could hear him urging her on, Cho's broom edged forward in front of Draco's, slightly at first, but gaining more and more. Draco leaned further over his broom, pushing it forward a little. He didn't make up the distance between them.

Harry stood up, grinning wildly. 'She's going to do it! Cho! Come on!'

Cho was drawing close to the Snitch and she put out her hand, straining for it. Draco kicked himself into a final spurt of speed, twisting beneath her. He reached up and plucked the golden ball from the air before her fingers.

'Slytherin wins!' There was more than a hint of disbelief in the Hufflepuff's voice.

A triumphant roar rose from the Slytherin stands. A few Hufflepuff stood and clapped as well. Almost all of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor remained in their seats. Harry gaped in shocked incredulity. Beside him, Ron spluttered.

'That wasn't a fair game!' he muttered. 'Cho nearly got killed out there, she's probably been shaken up really badly—'

'It was her choice to continue playing,' Hermione said quietly. 'If she hadn't, Ravenclaw would have had to forfeit. At the end of the day, Slytherin deserved the win.' She caught Ron's eye and sighed. 'All right, let me correct that bit. Draco deserved to win.' She pointed at the field in exasperation as Ron's expression flatly refused to change. Draco's face had lit up as soon as his hand closed around the Snitch and now he was weaving jubilant loops through the air. 'After everything that's happened, that's exactly what he needs.'

Ron sighed in defeat. 'If you say so.'

'I do. By the way, have you decided yet?'

'Not yet, no.'

'I think you'll enjoy it more than you think. There's a lot of Quidditch in Hogwarts' history.'

'Is there?'

Harry nudged Ron. 'Come on.'

'What?'

'They've come down. I want to see Cho.'

They made their way out onto the field. Harry was so intent on getting to Cho that he barely noticed Draco walking towards him. Instead, he pushed past and called out to her. Cho turned at the sound of his voice. Her dark hair was plastered to her head by the rain, and Harry thought suddenly that she'd never looked so beautiful. She smiled tiredly.

'Hey, Harry.'

'Are you okay?'

She laughed. 'Apart from my whole left side throbbing with pain? Yes, I'm fine, Harry. I'll just be bruised for a while. Madam Hooch is going to insist that I go to the Infirmary though, I can tell.' She smiled at Hermione. 'I think congratulations are in order.'

Hermione's hand sought Ron's as she smiled back. He exchanged a bewildered look with Harry. 'Thank you. You played very well.'

'You should have heard Malfoy when he caught—' Cho winced as a spasm of pain ran through her side. 'Maybe that Bludger did more damage than I thought,' she muttered. Distractedly, Cho stared at a point just beyond Harry's shoulder. Her eyebrows raised slightly before her gaze settled again on Harry's concerned face.

'Do you want me to come to the Infirmary with you?'

Cho smiled. 'Yes. Thank you, Harry.'


	5. The Dragon's Lair

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: If you're under 15 years old, you shouldn't be here unless you've got an amazing level of maturity. The chapter contains: slash, het, and coarse language. If you don't like any of that, run away!

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:?, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Prongs, Exis, Rilar Cray, Kimagure, electricbluecat, SilverScales, Darth Maligna, Andry (It's not stopping, I promise. There's far more to come yet.), Britt, Jessica (I'm not much of a Cho fan myself.), snowwy, Penelope-Z, Kcarke (I had to give Cho a major character flaw, and I don't think Harry could possibly voluntarily hook up with someone so involved with Divination—although that's not what he's telling me at the moment. I'm glad you liked the Quidditch game; those can be difficult to work out. As to Draco's attempt to catch Cho—I think he's becoming a bit nicer, but he is also aware that Harry likes her. He's refusing to tell me specifically why he tried.), twilights death, SoulSister, Karmastaya, chasati (I'm not certain, but I think the idea of the Order of the Phoenix as a resistance group is based at least partly in fact. I believe it's been confirmed in an interview with J. K. Rowling. Of course, this is just from my crazy memory. .;;;), Myr, Angel, S. Maldiva (Thank you for pointing out that Cho was a year ahead of Harry; I'd forgotten that. However, I think it's still possible that she and Hermione are in the same Arithmancy class: being mathematically-based and an optional subject, I don't think it would attract many students, so the two years may be amalgamated. I'm sure Hermione would have mentioned something if she'd gone up a year.), and Thalia.

**All Torn Down: The Dragon's Lair**

They're gathered in circles,

the lamps light their faces;

The crescent moon rocks in the sky

The poets of drumming

Keep heartbeats suspended:

The smoke swirls up and then it dies

Would you like my mask?

Would you like my mirror?

Cries the man in the shadowing hood:

you can look at yourself,

You can look at each other—

Or you can look at the face of your god.

...

The lessons are written

on parchments of paper;

They're carried by horse from the river Nile,

Says the shadowy voice.

In the firelight, the cobra

Is casting the flame a winsome smile.

Would you like my mask?

Would you like my mirror?

Cries the man in the shadowing hood:

you can look at yourself,

You can look at each other—

Or you can look at the face of your god.

—_Marrakesh Night Market_, Loreena McKennitt

It was the elation at having won. That must have been it. Nothing else could possibly explain why he was so _stupid_.

On landing, Draco had turned to see Harry walking onto the field with Weasley and Granger in tow. For the briefest moment, he had thought Potter was heading towards him, and had walked forward to meet with him. Harry brushed past without a second glance.

Draco stared after him, watching Harry speak to the Ravenclaw girl, Chang. She smiled at Potter as she spoke, and Draco could tell he was smiling back.

_I tried to save her..._

..._But not even a thank you_, he thought bitterly, watching them with a lonely pain catching in his chest. He was completely unaware of Pansy standing a few feet away, her eyes slits of suspicion as she transferred her gaze from Draco to the small group and back again.

Chang winced, muttered something he couldn't hear. She looked beyond Harry and her gaze locked with Draco's, shaking him out of his daze. He glared at her. She raised her eyebrows slightly and he swivelled on the ball of his foot and walked to the castle, taking long strides to carry himself away as quickly as possible.

Inside, Draco made a beeline for the Slytherin common room. He hardly ever ventured in there any more except to collect his books, but it should be safe now, with the rest of the House still outside.

Nevertheless, he wasted no time. Draco headed up to the dormitory and threw open his trunk. He fished out an inkpot, a quill, his wand and a piece of parchment. Clutching these items, he exited the common room.

Draco wandered down the corridors, letting his feet do the thinking. It didn't really matter where he ended up, as long as it was somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed. He descended a stairway. Halfway down, he turned and stepped through a yawning hole in the wall. It was dark down there; Draco found that he didn't really care. There was no one else here, that was the important thing. For a place so large, Hogwarts often seemed very crowded. Or perhaps that was just him.

Draco paused, looking around in the gloom. He couldn't tell very well in the light, but he didn't think he'd been in this part of the castle before.

'_Lumos_.'

His wand illuminated a tunnel that stretched like a gaping, toothless mouth ahead of him. Draco looked over his shoulder and saw the same, darkening stretch behind. He stood very still for a moment. This place was new. It smelled old and unused. It waited silently for him to choose his way.

Draco stepped forward, holding his wand over his head as he moved down the tunnel. He felt a very small stir of excitement, and his pace quickened. There was something down here; he could feel it. Almost as though it were waiting for him, calling to him.

It was a dead end. Draco stared at the wall before him, and sagged.

_Typical_.

Draco wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but the stone wall in front of him was like a slap in the face.

Nevertheless, the place was deserted. Draco sat against one of the walls to the side of the dead end and placed his wand on the ground. He uncapped the inkpot and set it down beside him. He lifted his quill and stared at the blank parchment for a second before dipping the quill's tip in the ink and beginning to trace soft lines over the page.

Draco was by no means an artist, but he knew this image very well. More than that, he knew it by heart. The features haunted him in his dreams and tortured him by day. Dark, unruly hair falling softly over a jagged scar; glasses shielding eyes that would be green if he had any colour. Lips that seemed to curve eternally into a smile, at least in his eyes.

Eventually Draco laid the quill down beside the inkpot. He reached for his wand and pressed its tip against the still-drying image.

'_Cogito animo_,' he whispered.

It was a charm he'd picked up from a few notes scribbled in the margin of a library book by some past student. The charm allowed the sketch to move, echoing Draco's thoughts as he'd drawn it. The inked image of Harry Potter smiled at him, whispered something that neither of them would ever hear. It lifted a hand and moved as though to reach out and touch Draco. But the lines of the drawing couldn't rise away from the parchment.

Draco watched the image's efforts to reach him impassively for a few minutes. Then his face grew hard.

'That's just cruel,' he muttered, and tore the page up. Draco covered his face with his hands, breathing deeply, fighting the lump that rose in his throat. It was pitiable, and he hated pitying himself. He hated himself for being so weak.

Draco got to his feet, his hands clenching into fists. His nails bit viciously into the flesh of his hands as he stared at the nearest physical obstruction in his life: the dead end. His fists slammed against the stone; the pain shooting up his arms was a relief. Draco punched the wall again and again, until he thought the bones in his hands would splinter. He didn't care. He realised that tears were streaming down his face, but at least he could tell himself it was because of the pain, not because he was weak. He slammed his body against the wall; kicked it, screamed at the unforgiving stones. It didn't matter. There was no one to hear.

Draco continued in this way until his body screamed for him to stop. He would be a mass of bruises, and worse, tomorrow. He should probably go to the Hospital Wing, say he fell down a flight of stairs...Draco caught his breath and turned. He leaned back—

—and fell to the ground. Draco gasped as the back of his head impacted with the floor and his vision wobbled wildly for an instant. He sat up, wincing, and stared at the extremely solid wall in front of him. His ankles disappeared into the stones. 

Retracting his legs, Draco knelt and gingerly reached out. His fingertips slipped past the surface of the stone effortlessly. He pulled his hand back and turned it about, placing the back of his palm against the wall. It was cold and abrasive under his touch.

_Backward one way, forward the other..._

Draco's knees cracked as he stood. Turning slowly, he realised he was in, of all things, a bedroom. This was evidenced by the bunk in the far corner, covered with faded blankets. There was a wooden cabinet pushed against a wall beside the bed. A couple of very old, worn books and a bowl of tepid water were on top of it. A moth-eaten rug lay on the floor, embroidered with a pattern of entwining serpents. There was a desk on the opposite side of the room, adjacent to a blackened fireplace that had obviously fallen into disuse long ago. 

The room was dimly illuminated by the dull glow of a red orb hovering over the desk. Draco recognised it as the manifestation of a perpetual lighting spell, and sucked in a breath. Those spells lasted for years; when they were first cast, the orb was incandescent. As its energy dropped, the orb's colour changed to yellow, to orange, and finally to red, before it was extinguished completely. How long had the spell been sitting there, uselessly burning away?

Draco crossed to the cabinet. He lifted one of the books: _The Dark Ages--A History of the Rise and Fall of Dark Magic_. He opened the book; the signature T. M. Riddle was inscribed on the inside cover. Draco thumbed through the pages, glancing at passages here and there. Someone, presumably the book's owner, had scribbled spidery notes in the margins; now so faded they were barely visible. Draco paused as his eye fell upon an inked sketch of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. He lifted his left hand and stared at the remnant of the Dark Mark on his wrist. The two images were almost exactly the same.

As he watched, the snake in the book flickered its tongue at him and curled backwards, slithering through the socket of the skull's left eye. As its tail disappeared into the socket, its head re-emerged at the skull's jaw. 

'Cogito animatum,' Draco murmured to himself. He shuddered to think what the artist had been envisaging when he drew that. His gaze moved to a series of notes Riddle had made beside the picture, and strained to read the faint marks. He gave up after a moment and read the much clearer passage printed below the picture.

'**_Insignia Ater: _**Signifies the constancy of the dark side. The snake is never completely consumed by the skull; but is merely hidden. Its cycle represents that which dark risings are believed to follow: in evidence for a period of years and then hidden. Its movement indicates the rise and fall of dark rulers, and the spread of dark magic in the minds of men—during the hiding years the serpent contaminates the psyche, then is set free in the next uprising as it emerges through the jaw. Interestingly, serpents have been used as symbols of dark magic for centuries, even further back than Salazaar Slytherin himself. There was a time when children found to be Parselmouths were routinely killed, so fearful were people of the serpentine connection. Even now, the ability to speak Parseltongue places one under immediate and generalised suspicion...'

The rest of the page had been torn away. Draco put the book aside thoughtfully and looked at the second one. The title said it all: _Parselmouths Through the Ages_. It, too, was signed by T. M. Riddle.

Draco bent down and examined the cabinet. It was locked. He shrugged, crossed over to the desk, and yanked one of its drawers open. There was nothing of particular interest within; a few sheets of yellowed parchment, quills, inkpots; a couple of old textbooks. He opened the second drawer. There was only one thing in this one: a small, flat box covered with a deep red material, wedged in the corner. Draco retrieved the box and lifted the lid.

It was a music box. A tiny, haunting melody filled the silence as it opened. Like a Muggle music box, one of which Draco had seen in a London shop window when he was a small child, there was a dancer inside. Unlike a Muggle version, the dancer wasn't a mechanised doll: it was a beautifully detailed, if slightly transparent, image of an Arabian dancer, moving her body sensuously on a stage of soft burgundy satin. Her arms wove complex patterns in the air; her hips swayed rhythmically. She smiled up at Draco. He almost dropped the box. Her only teeth were a pair of incisors, and they began to lengthen as he continued to watch. The rest of her body, too, changed. The warm tones of her skin shifted to shades of green; her arms disappeared, her legs became an extension of her back...her hair became a scaled hood...and swaying before Draco's eyes was an impossible emerald cobra.

Its tongue flickered at him. It seemed to wink with green, sharp eyes. Suddenly the snake stiffened. Its image faded away and, lying vertically over the satin, was a small brass key. Unlike the dancer and the cobra, the key looked solid.

Draco's fingers closed over it hesitantly; he wasn't sure whether it would change again, or what to. The brass was reassuringly firm and cold beneath his touch and he took the key away, closing the box with a snap. With a smile he returned to the cabinet. The key slid easily into the lock, and when Draco turned it, there was a satisfying _click_ and the doors swung open, creaking slightly.

The inside of the cabinet was a clutter of potions and elixirs. Some bottles were empty, others broken; their contents having seeped into the wooden bottom of the cupboard long ago. Draco's hand roved over the chaos, selecting jars at random. Love potions, Polyjuice, a few oddly named elixirs Draco didn't recognise, even some mild poisons. His hand stopped over a bottle labelled simply, 'Healing'. He unstoppered the bottle and allowed a few drops to fall on his knuckles, which were grazed and cut from hitting the wall.

Draco bit down sharply on his tongue to keep himself from crying out. His hand stung; it burned. He closed his eyes, feeling his skin writhe at the potion's touch. After a very long while the sensation stopped, and when Draco ventured to look at his hand again, the pale skin was unbroken. He tried a little of the potion on one of the bruises forming on his arm—the reaction was less extreme, and the injury vanished quickly. Soon Draco was rubbing the potion over his battered body, wincing as his skin writhed beneath the liquid but grimacing in triumph as the marks disappeared. There was a large area of his back where the Bludger had hit that cried out for the elixir, but Draco recapped the bottle and set it back in its place. He would worry about that later.

There was only one shelf in the cabinet, and apparently it was reserved for a single, large jar obscured by a square of black cloth. Curious, Draco pulled the cloth away. He hissed in fright.

Suspended in the jar was an emerald snake. Draco realised quickly that it was dead, but it hadn't seemed so as the cloth slipped away. There was an almost sentient gleam in its spiteful eyes; it looked poised to strike. Its mouth was wide open and its forked tongue leaped obscenely at him between the white fangs. Draco replaced the cloth quickly.

He glanced around the room. The dim red light of the orb struck the stones with shades of blood, and it struck him suddenly how sinister the place was. The books...the potions...the snakes...he would have to tell Dumbledore about them. And yet—

Draco hesitated over the next thought. He never slept in the Slytherin dormitory any more, but he'd found nowhere else to settle either. Snape had tried to convince him to return to the dormitory on several occasions, to no avail. It was better to sleep on cold stone than to wake to those memories, those faces. This room, if he kept it a secret, could be his...

Draco closed his eyes, thinking. Dumbledore should know. The snakes, the book on the Dark Arts—Draco was sure it was important. They shouldn't be here. Perhaps he could make a deal.

_And perhaps not..._

He ground his teeth together. Well, if not, why not? Why shouldn't he stay here? What could the old man do to stop him, anyway? He could come back, even without Dumbledore's permission. He needed the approval of no one to justify what he did. He was a—

Draco stopped. The word that normally would have slotted easily in at the end of that train of thought was 'Malfoy', or perhaps 'pureblood'. Those words now seemed as foul to him as 'Mudblood' was to Granger and her Weasel.

He reached out again to the clutter of potions, randomly choosing bottles. Love potions, poisons...Draco deliberately left the healing potion where it was. That could be useful to him later on. He left one or two of the poisons, too. He wasn't a fool; they could be as important as the healer one day. It occurred briefly to Draco that he could slip Harry a love potion, but only briefly. He'd eat his own right hand before stooping to that.

He needed something to carry it all in. He went back to the desk and pulled out the second drawer, leaving the music box on the desktop. Draco put the books in first, then the collection of potions. Finally he hefted the jar containing the preserved serpent on top, and lifted the drawer from the ground. He walked out through the wall.

'_Accio_ wand,' he murmured, delving into the latent magic within him. His wand, still glowing from the luminescence spell, flew to his outstretched hand and Draco navigated his way back through the castle by its light. He hadn't realised how long he'd spent in the tunnel: night had fallen and most of the corridors were deserted. The few students Draco did see gave him odd looks, but must have concluded he was on some kind of errand for Snape. After several wrong turnings, Draco relocated the gargoyle blocking the way to the Headmaster's office. He stopped and realised that he had no idea what the new password was.

'Er...' _Snape said 'Fizzing Whizzbee'. A sweet. Doesn't really surprise me... ._'Chocolate frogs.' The gargoyle remained where it was. 'Sugar quills.' Nothing. 'Cockroach Clusters. Chocoballs. Pepper imps.' The gargoyle was resolutely still. 'Just as well, I always hated those. Every Flavour Beans—'

'Draco, I would never afflict my gargoyle with that particular password.'

Draco turned around as quickly as was possible without dropping anything. Dumbledore stood behind him, a look of mild amusement on his face. One of the old wizard's silvery brows rose as he looked at the objects Draco held. 

'An interesting collection,' he noted.

'I found them,' Draco said. 'I found a room, hidden away. Where were you?'

'In the Great Hall, having dinner. Congratulations on your victory in Quidditch. The rest of your House was rather boisterous in their celebrations.'

'I'm glad I missed it, then.'

Dumbledore's beard twitched. 'I assume you came here to tell me about this room?'

'Yes.'

'Then follow me. Ice Mice.' The gargoyle bowed to Dumbledore before jumping aside.

'Why did it do that?' Draco asked as they headed up the stairway.

'I never really knew myself. I think that a past Headmaster must have taught it to bow when he entered, and it just became a habit.' Dumbledore opened the door and ushered Draco into his office. He pointed his wand at the fireplace. '_Incendio_. Put the drawer on my desk over there.'

Draco did so. 'It must be a monotonous job,' he remarked.

'For the gargoyle? On the contrary, I believe it enjoys it. Most of the guardians in Hogwarts do; they wouldn't leave for all the galleons in Gringotts. Here, they can see the changing wizarding generations grow up. You would be amazed at some of the gossip I hear, particularly from the paintings.'

Draco was impressed. _A spy network in his own castle..._

'Now,' Dumbledore said, sitting at his desk and clasping his hands in front of him. 'About this room.'

'It's in the West Wing, near the Chimaera Hall. I found a tunnel, and the room is at the end of it—a bedroom.'

'And these things were inside it.'

'Yes, sir.'

Dumbledore lifted a hand to gesture for Draco to remove the cloth hiding the embalmed snake. Draco did so, slowly, watching the Headmaster's expression carefully. Dumbledore regarded the rigid snarl blandly for a lengthy few minutes before murmuring, 'It appears that Rubeus wasn't the only one who liked to keep dangerous pets. How interesting. Show me the other jars, please.'

Draco set the bottles out before Dumbledore. The Headmaster sorted through them, pushing some to the side as he muttered, 'Confiscated...project...confiscated...' to himself.

The result was two groups, one consisting prominently of love potions, minor hexing ointments and class experiments. The remaining bottles in front of Dumbledore were for the most part poisons and curse potions; there was one containing Polyjuice. 

'Fascinating,' Dumbledore said. 'Is there anything else?'

Draco showed him the two books. Dumbledore opened _The Dark Ages_ and noted the signature on the inside cover. 'Ah. As I suspected. Young Mr Riddle appears again.'

'Someone you know, sir?'

Dumbledore looked up. 'Tom Marvolo Riddle was a student at Hogwarts a little over fifty years ago.'

'Fifty years...' Draco's expression shifted to one of intense concentration. He drew a sharp breath. 'You mean the first time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, don't you...'

'Quite so. At the time, Tom Riddle was recognised as the student who caught the Heir of Slytherin. However, it later became apparent that he—'

'—was the Heir himself,' Draco concluded. 'And he set someone up to take the fall for him.'

'Yes.'

Draco's face became haggard. 'I remember the second time it was opened. Since the first attacks I wanted to know who was behind it—so I could help them. I would write to my father every week asking who it was, and every week he failed to give me a straight answer. But I was certain he knew.' He laughed bitterly. 'Voldemort should have tried to recruit me then. I was such a pureblood fanatic. This Riddle person sounds like someone he would love, too.'

'Draco,' Dumbledore said quite calmly. 'Riddle is Voldemort.'

All expression bar the shocked 'o' of his mouth vanished from Draco's face. Eventually his jaw, noting the absence of any cerebral input, closed of its own accord. It opened again a second later to release a strangled sound from his throat.

Dumbledore didn't seem at all perturbed by Draco's reaction. 'Tom was an excellent student. Prefect, Head Boy...the attacks occurred in his fifth year. Even when I found out that he was behind them, I believed he was being controlled by an outside force. I never thought the Dark Arts corrupted him until after his graduation. It would seem I was wrong.' The Headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully. 'Tom tried very hard to be allowed to spend the Christmas holidays here that year. The Headmaster at the time forbade him to stay, but I don't recall seeing him on the train when the holidays came. Or for the holidays during the two years afterward, in fact.' He sighed. 'If I didn't know what he's become, I might pity the boy. He spent the holidays hiding in that room rather than return to the orphanage...'

'Orphanage?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Tom Riddle was raised in a Muggle orphanage. His mother died giving birth to him, you see.'

'What about his father?'

'He threw Tom's mother out when she told him she was a witch.'

'Voldemort is a _Muggle-born_?'

'He was never proud of the fact, even as a child. He hated his father with a passion.'

'So all of this—the uprisings—are just his personal vendetta?'

'To a certain extent.'

Draco leaned against the desk for support. 'While we're being so talkative, is there anything else I've missed in the past four years? Anything I might need to know?'

Dumbledore seemed to consider this. 'I don't think so, no. I'll let you know if I recall something, though.'

'Wonderful.' 

'Thank you for showing me this. It may help us greatly.'

Draco nodded. 'There was something else...I've forgotten...' He thought for a few seconds and snapped his fingers. 'The room! Professor, can I have it?'

Dumbledore's face was blank. 'I beg your pardon?'

'The room—Riddle's room—you know I don't sleep in the Slytherin common room any more, don't you?'

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was ironic. 'I had asked Severus to speak to you about that.'

'He did. Several times, but I'm not spending a night in there again. Will you let me use this room instead?'

Dumbledore considered him gravely. Eventually he said, 'Very well. Collect your trunk from the common room tonight.'

Draco smiled. 'Thank you, Professor.'

'You are more than welcome. I think you should hurry, though. Most of the tables were full when I left and the Slytherins looked ready to stay up all night, but it is getting late...'

Draco needed no further impetus. He virtually flew from the room. He didn't notice the shadows stir behind him as he raced through the corridors, or the figure who followed.

Draco hummed the tune from the music box as he dragged his trunk from the dormitory. He paused when he reached the still-empty common room, resting the box on the floor.

'Hello, Draco.'

He spun about, hitting his heel against the trunk. 'Pansy.'

She stood at the common room's entrance, staring at him and then down at his trunk. 'What are you doing?'

'I have somewhere else to go.'

Pansy's eyes narrowed. 'What's going on?'

'What are you talking about?'

'Don't try to avoid me,' she snapped. 'What's happened? You're not yourself any more.' The suspicion in Pansy's eyes deepened. 'You've been spending a lot of time around Potter and his friends lately.'

Draco sighed. 'Pansy, my mission is to watch him—'

'I don't believe you. You're hiding something. What, Draco? I saw you staring at their little group after the match today. You were staring at the Ravenclaw, that Chinese girl—'

'Cho Chang,' Draco said quietly.

'Hah! Been taking notice of her, have you? Don't tell me she's got you to switch sides with her little smiles. For God's sake, Draco, I'm not much but at least keep some respect for tradition!'

Draco stared at her, unbelieving. 'Pansy,' he said firmly. 'I wouldn't touch Chang with a ten foot staff.'

'Then who is it? Have you got your eye on Granger? That's even worse, she's a _mudblood_, and she's taken!'

'I'm not slavering after any Gryffindor girl!' Draco yelled. Pansy jumped at his vehemence and he lowered his voice. 'And I haven't changed sides, either.'

'I still don't believe you,' she said, more subdued now. 'There's something wrong. I want to know what it is.'

'Pansy—'

'Do you realise that I could tell your father? One owl, Draco, that's all it takes.'

Draco tried to keep a calm face through the stab of panic he felt. 'Don't bother, Pansy. All you'd be telling him is hysterical nonsense.'

'Wait a second,' she hissed. 'You slit your wrists, didn't you? They saw the Mark. Did they coerce you into this?'

'Pansy, stop it. You sound like some deranged Muggle.' That pulled her up. 'I'm still with Voldemort. Understand? Yes, they've seen the Mark. Dumbledore interrogated me. They think I'm spying for them now.' He smirked. This was a lie he could work with. 'Actually, it's all turned out rather well. I can get as close to Potter as I like—' A bitter voice in his mind jeered at him; '—and they don't suspect a thing. Of course, there are other perks.' 

He picked up his trunk and headed for the entrance.

'Such as?'

'No longer having to put up with inane, hysterical nuisances every time I want to get near a fire.'

He left her staring after him in wounded shock.

Draco didn't pause again until he reached the end of the tunnel. Smiling to himself, he turned and heaved the trunk backwards through the wall. He pushed the chest alongside the cabinet and threw it open. Finally, a place of his own. 

He began to sort through the items in the trunk, placing them haphazardly in the cabinet. Parchment, quills, inkpots and books found themselves deposited on the desk. His robes could stay in the trunk. Draco's hand hovered briefly over a black wooden box his father had given him at the end of the holidays. It was full of tools for the Dark Arts; instruments to help him in whatever missions Voldemort chose to give him. It was sorely tempting to throw the box in the fireplace and let it burn. But if he needed them later...

Draco shoved the box carelessly in the back of the cabinet, hiding it behind the rest of his belongings. _If_ he needed it, the box was there. However, he didn't want to know about it until then.

Finished, Draco sat back on his haunches, stretching. A sudden spasm of pain coursed over his back, reminding Draco that there was one injury he hadn't yet taken care of. He reached once more for the Healing bottle.

After a couple of minutes spent gritting his teeth against the pain of the potion's touch, Draco stoppered the bottle and reached for his wand. He pointed it at the fireplace. '_Incendio_.' In a second the room was painted with the light of leaping flames. Draco turned to the orb on the desk. '_Finite Incantatem_.' The orb dissipated with a thankful hiss.

Draco sat on the rug, idly watching the fire dance. He smiled again. It didn't matter that this had once been Voldemort's hiding place. It was his now, and it was secret. No one knew he was here. He could do anything, and no one would know, or try to stop him. No one could find him...or hurt him...

Draco stopped that thought right there. There were too many journeys that train could make, none of which he wanted to explore. This good mood was too rare and precious a thing to be destroyed so quickly. Draco watched the fire burn and dwindle away, until the spell wore out. In the dark, he felt his way around until he located the bed, and collapsed between the sheets.

Much later, Draco's eyes flickered open and he stared into the thick black of the night. There was some niggling thought, something important he'd nearly forgotten...

_...One week until the Death Eater gathering..._

Damn.

That thought managed to cloud the rest of Draco's week. He would drift into troubled daydreams at his desk, staring blankly around the room as countless scenarios played themselves out in his mind. Invariably he ended up staring at Harry, and would shake himself and look back at the teacher until the next scene took hold. Between classes, Draco paced aimlessly through the castle, his thoughts chasing each other around his head. What could the Dark Lord want? Were meetings like this going to become a normal occurrence? Perhaps he'd been stupid to think he could avoid the Death Eaters here at school; there were enough of them there. If secret meetings were what Voldemort had planned to keep his young adherents in line, though, why wait until now to call one? Term was almost over. So why...?

It was in this frame of mind that Draco bumped into Cho Chang on Sunday morning. He flinched back as though she'd stung him. The tarot pack she was carrying slipped from her hand and hit the floor. Cards spilled over Draco's feet and he bent down, gathering them up and shoving them roughly back into the box. He handed it back to her, his fingers slipping hurriedly from the box as her hand closed over it, too near for comfort. Chang smiled.

'Thank you,' she said.

Draco glared at her and walked on. He saw Pansy glaring at him further up the corridor, and he stared back, shaking his head slightly. She turned, her cheeks flushing an angry crimson, and prowled away.

At half-past eleven that night, Draco met with Snape outside the Potions classroom. Without exchanging a word, they made their way out of the castle and down to Hogsmeade. Neither caught sight of another soul until they made out a cluster of masked and hooded figures just outside of the village, illuminated by the light emanating from the tips of their wands.

As Draco drew closer, he found he could identify some of the figures by their posture. His father was there, but his eyes were impassive when his gaze rested on Draco, moving quickly on as though he weren't really there. Draco felt a brief chill. He remembered the letter: '_...I won't be there to save you any more. You're a man now..._'

Well, fine. If that was the way it was going to be, so be it. It didn't matter anyway; he didn't need his father's acknowledgment any more. He never should have.

Not all of the younger Death Eaters had made it, and Draco felt a small stir of triumph. Crabbe, Goyle and Bulstrode were all missing, as were several Hufflepuffs. Most of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor recruits had made it past the Hogwarts staff, but there were fewer of them.

Voldemort was an icy presence glaring at them all. He regarded most of the gathering with contempt, and was obviously displeased with the turnout.

'Snape,' he snapped, his voice cracking with the frost it carried. 'Where are the rest?'

Snape bowed to him. 'Dumbledore's cohorts watch the students closely, my lord. Most likely they were intercepted trying to make their way out here. It cannot be helped. Rest assured that I will pass your messages on to them.'

'See that you do.' The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed. 'How is it that you failed to help them?'

'I cannot afford to come under suspicion in the castle, lord. McGonagall already keeps close watch on me with those damn cat's eyes of hers.'

Voldemort's mouth curved into a tight smile that gave up halfway to his eyes. 'Very well. Your reports of late have been most informative...unlike those first few you sent me at the beginning of the year.'

'There was precious little to report initially. I had to work to regain Dumbledore's trust, as well. As I told you, I couldn't rejoin you immediately on your resurrection without being caught. However, my absence shortly afterward didn't go unnoticed by the Muggle-lover.'

Voldemort waved a thin hand, dismissing him. 'I am not interested in tedious explanations, Snape. I called this meeting for a reason, and it was not to hear the sound of your voice.'

Voldemort looked around at the students gathered. 'Holidays soon, isn't it?' he purred. 'You must all be so glad to be going home for Christmas, to finally be getting away from the Squibs, the mudbloods and Muggle-lovers in that forsaken school.' There was fervent nodding among the younger group. Draco joined in for the look of the thing. 'Yet, as in all great struggles, there must always be sacrifice. Some of you will have to remain at Hogwarts to watch over the Boy and his friends.' Faces fell. Voldemort laughed. 'Not all of you, of course. Only a few, carefully selected...'

Voldemort pointed at a Gryffindor, Berald, and then at Draco. 'You three must stay behind. Keep your eyes open. Remember, one slip and you will be no more. I was lenient once and now know the price. I have no desire to pay it again.' He turned to Snape. 'Follow Dumbledore's every move from now on. I want to know exactly what he is doing, why and when. Your correspondence is going to become extremely important.'

Snape bowed again. 'I am honoured.'

'Don't be. If information isn't correct, it's your head on my platter. Lucius?'

'Yes, lord?'

'What is the situation at the Ministry?'

'Tense. Dumbledore is drawing the lines as well, and that fool Fudge refuses to believe that you have returned. I haven't pressed the issue as Dumbledore tried to, and Fudge now believes him to be insane--this could work to our advantage later—'

'I know all this, Malfoy,' Voldemort said irritably. 'Get on with it.'

'Largely we are relying on informants and sympathisers who were with us last time, but weren't caught. I think that some are double dealing for Dumbledore as well, however.'

'Any names? Proof?'

'Not as yet.'

'Then let them be. I suppose that no one can be rallied to our side?'

'After what happened thirteen years ago? It will take time, my lord. I know of some Ministers who hold back only because they have not yet seen evidence that you can win this time.'

'Cowards and fools!' the Dark Lord hissed in fury.

'But useful allies nevertheless.'

'A fact of which I am extremely aware,' Voldemort snapped.

'Forgive me, lord.'

Voldemort drew in a breath, the air rattling down his throat. His burning eyes glinted. 'Azkaban is going to be more difficult to take than I had hoped. It may take several months more.' His face broke into a depraved smile. 'When we have it, however...' He left the sentence hanging in the minds of the Death Eaters, who added their own twisted endings. 'The giants look as though they are going to side with the Muggle-lover this time. That's all right. They aren't necessary; merely a convenience.'

Draco went cold at the clinical tone in his voice. He thought of Hagrid. Draco disliked the half-giant, but he never considered him simply an obstacle; a...thing without mind or heart. He shivered.

'These coming weeks, the rebellion shall begin in earnest. I have sent agents to Azkaban who are trying to break in as we speak. Two days after Christmas, we will strike at the London Underground. The Muggles will believe it to be nothing more than a train accident. Aside from the four of you remaining at the Hogwarts, you are all to be there. I trust you know the spells required?' Hoods bobbed in acknowledgment. 'Good, good.' There was a maniacal gleam in the Dark Lord's eye. 'Then we shall begin well. And this time, we will succeed. The world shall be purged of Muggle scum!'

A murmur of excitement rippled through the group. The older Death Eaters straightened proudly; the younger ones whispered to one another. Draco noticed that a couple of figures, including a few he assumed to be Gryffindor, remained silent. Voldemort allowed the murmuring to grow for a moment before he quelled it.

'We will meet on the day at King's Cross Station. If you all do your jobs properly, Platform Nine and Three Quarters will be destroyed—leaving the mudbloods stranded outside of the protection of their dear saviour Dumbledore.' A stifling hush settled, speaking more than words could. Draco could feel the emotions teeming in the air—anticipation, awe and respect, fear... 'Until that day, continue your lives and your tasks. Let no one, _no one_, know that you were out of the castle tonight. Do not speak of this meeting at all. So, until we meet again—' There was a decidedly cruel twist to the Dark Lord's smile, '—Merry Christmas to one and all. Except for the Muggles.'

Voldemort drew himself up to his full height and Disapparated with a faint _pop_. Slowly, the older Death Eaters began to follow suit. A few turned to their children and spoke quietly with them before disappearing. 

It was almost surreal to watch, Draco thought: the sinister men in shadowy, hooded robes and bearing the Dark Mark, asking their sons and daughters how school was going; were they doing well in their exams; how were their friends? Their mothers missed them, they were all looking forward to going back home for the holidays.

Lucius didn't even bother to glance at his son before he Disapparated. Draco stared at the spot where he had been standing.

_Thanks, Father. Does Mother miss me?_

The other students began to head back to Hogwarts in small groups, some in heavy silence and others chattering quietly to each other; heedless of Voldemort's words. Draco saw that Snape hadn't moved since the Dark Lord left, and waited for him. Snape remained still until the rest were out of sight. Then his mouth opened, and he began to swear. He began quietly at first, building slowly to a violent crescendo that would have given any wizard awake in Hogsmeade a heart attack. Draco was certain that some of the words he used were foreign.

'I understand.'

Snape let fly with a few more choice phrases. 'No, I don't think you do. This is sooner, much sooner than we had expected. No one dreamed that he would attack until he'd either gained or lost Azkaban. And he's not even worried about the giants...!' Snape laughed sardonically. 'Oh, this is perfect. Just brilliant. He must still suspect something.'

'What makes you say that?'

Snape glared fiercely at the ground. 'When we tell Dumbledore about this, he will have two options. He can do nothing—which will result in the deaths of hundreds of wizards and Muggles. Or he can defend against the attack, which will let Voldemort know that someone who was here tonight is spying for Dumbledore. It will only be a matter of time before he works out who.'

Draco's mouth went dry. 'What happens then?'

'Exactly what you're thinking. And when we're gone, Dumbledore will have no way to anticipate Voldemort's movements. But Voldemort will still have _his_ spies.'

'Would we lose the war?'

'I don't know. It would be difficult. Longer, maybe. More people would die, that's certain.'

'Are we really so important?'

Snape caught the wistful note in Draco's voice. 'At the moment, while everything is still cloak-and-dagger, we are. When it comes down to open fighting, who knows?' He sighed. 'We had better get back to the castle. Dumbledore will have to call another meeting of the Order.'

They took the route the rest of the group had followed in silence, but now the quiet was laced with worry. Snape was scowling grimly. Draco kept thinking of the way Lucius had looked at him. His father had barely seemed to recognise him. Draco's mouth became filled with a bitter taste. What was expected of him? What more did he have to go through for his father to acknowledge him as an equal?

Draco blinked. What did it matter any more, anyway? He didn't care what Lucius thought of him.

'Professor...' he murmured as they entered the castle. His voice was exceeding soft, but it was enough to jerk Snape from his sour reverie. 'When you first came to Hogwarts...when you were a student here...'

'Yes, Draco?'

'Why did the Hat choose you for Slytherin? What was your ambition?'

Snape smiled, a little sadly, Draco thought. 'I wanted to be great. I didn't very much care what I was great at.'

Draco stared along the torch-lit passage ahead of him, one foot scuffing absently against the floor. He bit his lip. 'I wanted to be just like my father.' He laughed; a coarse chuckle that held very little humour. 'I really don't belong in that common room any more, do I? I don't belong anywhere.'

Snape stared at him, eyes unreadable. He shook his head slightly. 'Don't say that. You just haven't worked out where you do belong yet.' Snape began to walk up the passage. 'Goodnight, Draco.'

'Good night, Professor.'

Draco remained staring after his teacher a moment, wondering what that odd gleam in his eye had meant. Peeves drifted through the wall, making him jump.

'Aw,' the poltergeist nattered at him maniacally. 'Ickle Ferret up all late? Should call Filch, I should.' Peeves levitated a suit of armour into the air and began to dance with it, jangling the metal arms so loudly Filch probably would hear and come running. Draco began to back away, aware of Peeves's fear of the Bloody Baron. He would probably have some exceptionally nasty tricks up his silvery sleeve for a lone Slytherin out at night. 

'Been having secret midnight meetings, have you?' the ghost said in a singsong voice. He began to chant, 'Who'sda girl, who'sda girl, who'sda girl...?' as he waltzed.

'No girl,' Draco muttered, and ran for the safety of his lair.


	6. Truth and Dare

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: Here be slash and het. If that's not for you, why did you get this far? Shoo!

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:Kimagure, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Myr, chasati, SoulSister, Jivanna (I certainly do. Well, apparently you _are_ supposed to hurt the ones you love…), Jessica (The title was kind of inevitable, really. That's what comes of being an Ogden Nash reader in my youth.), Cherubic Sasami, Penelope-Z, Rhys, Apocalypse, Blaze, Antiprep Superstar, twilights death, Morphia Productions, Demeter, Sorceress Jade, bunnyb (The love won't remain unrequited. A little sadness can be good sometimes…did anyone else get tired of Disney movies because they always had such perfect happy endings?), Britt, Darth Maligna, Exis, TJ, mysticalcancer, Mysterious (An interesting synopsis. It sounds like a very good story—perhaps you should actually write it and get your own author account so that you don't have to post your ideas in other people's review boxes. My sister and I were both a bit nonplussed about finding it in ours.), Kcarke (The image of Draco drawing Harry was one that had been pounding on the door asking to be noticed for some time. I thought the fact of the paintings was the most probable and easiest way for Dumbledore to keep an eye on what was happening around the castle, given that he himself is rarely seen in the books except at mealtime and in his office. I'm rather glad you've decided not to like Pansy, because she's only going to get worse from here on in. You'll be seeing a fair bit more of one of the Gryffindor Death Eaters in particular, but he isn't in Harry's year.), Wednesday (Yay! Someone else who dislikes Cho…I may need help to prise Harry away from her…), S. Maldiva (Yes, Voldemort's looking extremely pleased with himself at the moment. *Kicks the Dark Lord in the shins* Pansy…is going to get very nasty about things.), 

****

All Torn Down: Truth and Dare

Dare to be true;

Nothing can need a lie.

The fault that needs one most

Grows two thereby.

—_Dare to be True_, George Herbert

Harry felt himself being roughly shaken awake. People around him were shouting; Harry could hear someone screaming and was shocked to realise it was him. What he was most acutely aware of, though, was a searing pain in his forehead. He shot upright, bumping heads with Ron, and clapped a hand to his scar. Ron released him.

'Not again,' Seamus was moaning. 'This is just like Divination last year...'

'Are you okay, Harry?' Ron asked him quietly.

Harry didn't answer at once. He cast a muzzy glance about the room. Not one of the beds around him was occupied. Neville crouched, pale and shaking, in a corner. Dean stood over the frightened boy, trying to calm him despite his own quite visible alarm.

__

...Not the Platform...it's all right...

'Yeah...yeah, I'm fine. Just a nightmare.'

'That was no nightmare.' Seamus scowled. 'You were screaming for ages and you wouldn't wake up!'

'Mm.' Harry slipped out of bed and opened his chest, searching for his robes. Ron knelt down next to him.

'Another dream?' he whispered so the others wouldn't hear. Harry nodded. 'Oh Gods...Hermione'll go nuts...'

'So don't tell her.' 

Harry closed the trunk and withdrew into the bathroom. Inside, he slid to the floor, shaking, trying to push the images of the dream from his mind: people screaming, explosions, masked and hooded figures pouring out of the London Underground... and above it all, the Dark Mark, watching...

Harry hauled himself up and swayed momentarily in front of the basin before he turned the taps and splashed cold water on his face. The pain in his forehead was still there, but had faded to a dull ache. He glared at his reflection in the mirror. Harry baulked first; turning away to strip off his pyjamas.

Actually, telling Hermione about the dream was the best thing Harry could think of besides going to Dumbledore. Ron was right—she'd go crazy for about ten minutes—but after that it would be all logic and sense and, above all, perspective. Hermione would never be so stupid as to tell Harry not to worry, but she would point out that it was just a dream and Harry was bound to have been on tenterhooks anyway because of the Death Eater meeting last night. Not helpful, exactly, but oddly comforting. If nothing else, she could quote a yard-long list of books that might help him.

Harry pulled his robe on and exited the bathroom at high speed. Feeling the now much calmer gazes of the other boys on him, he sheepishly muttered, 'Sorry I woke you all,' and began to descend toward the common room. Ron, already robed, followed him.

'Someone's going to have to do something about those dreams of yours,' Ron said as they traversed the steps. 'Keep going the way you are and they'll be able to hear you back in England!'

'Mm.'

'You should have been made a Prefect. At least then you'd have your own room, and you wouldn't wake the rest of us up every time—I mean, no offence, but—'

'I know. I was still screaming when I woke up, remember? I know how loud it is.' He shrugged. 'But me becoming Prefect would only have happened over Snape's dead body.'

'Yeah,' Ron grinned. 'Something that's only ever going to happen in our fondest dreams—well, in mine, anyway, yours are probably filled with Cho--' he ducked to avoid Harry's half-hearted swing at him. In point of fact, Harry hadn't dreamed of Cho for a while, her image having been replaced with certain others. The fact was beginning to bother him.

Harry paused in front of the door to the common room. 'Wait. Ron, did you just admit that you dream more about Snape than you do about Hermione?'

The grin dropped abruptly from Ron's face and his mouth hung slack. 'Urrgh—_yuck_. Harry, let's just not go down that path, all right?'

'Agreed.' Harry's brow creased. 'Although, I still haven't worked out why Hermione didn't get Prefect...'

'I think she asked not to be chosen,' Ron said vaguely as they entered the common room.

'She _what_?'

Ron shrugged. 'When I asked, she said something about not being a real leader...' he looked abashed at Harry's incredulous expression. 'Oh come on, if I understood everything about Hermione we would have been together two years ago at least. By the way,' Ron glanced around furtively, reached into a pocket and drew out _Hogwarts: A History_. 'I've decided to read it. Try to keep Fred and George off my back, will you?'

Harry nodded. They both turned at the sound of the girls' dormitory door opening. Hermione smiled as she crossed the room to them. 'Morning. Sleep well?'

They exchanged glances. 'No,' Harry said. 'Not really.'

Hermione's smile froze on her face, suddenly seeming out of place under the caution in her eyes. 'Why? What's wrong?'

Harry jabbed a thumb at his forehead. Hermione's smile disappeared altogether. 'Oh no, not again. Are you all right? Does it still hurt, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey? You'd better sit down right away, no, sit, I mean it Harry, sit! Good boy.' She glared fiercely at a bunch of third years watching them with extreme interest. 'Well? What are you looking at? Go away!' Her attention reverted abruptly back to Harry. 'You're going to have to tell Dumbledore about this right away, you do know that, don't you? Right, and you should probably get a message to Sirius as well—are you sure you don't need to see Pomfrey? You're looking a bit pale...'

'Mione,' Ron pointed out, 'Harry's always pale.'

On the whole, Harry thought, she took it better than he'd expected.

Fred and George burst into the room just as she began to calm down. 

'Breakfast!' George said cheerfully. 'Come on you three, to the Great Hall!' He paused as he noticed the square shape of the _History_ in Ron's pocket. 'What's that, Ronnykins? Aw, did you buy Hermione a box of chocolates? Isn't that sweet...' 

Ron backed away, glaring daggers as George advanced on him. Unfortunately, that meant he wasn't concentrating on Fred, who circled around to his side and retrieved the book easily. He gasped melodramatically as he looked at the cover.

'Oh no! George, look, she's turning him into a—' the twins winced in unison and shouted, 'bookworm!'

'No she isn't!' Ron said hotly, snatching the book back as they collapsed in laughter. 'I just promised Hermione I'd read this one.'

'Yeah, that's what they all say,' George grinned, winking at him. 'It begins with the histories—'

'Rolls on with the sagas—'

'And maybe even takes a detour into the chronicles—'

'Until you're hooked on books!'

Ron scowled, not at all impressed by the fact that Hermione and Harry were rapidly failing in their attempts not to laugh with the twins. 'You two are as bad as Peeves, you know that?'

'Nah,' Fred winked at him. 'We're worse. And you sound like Mum, by the way. See you down there—tiddlywinks!' They disappeared into the corridor and the Fat Lady swung shut.

'I wonder what they're so happy about?' Harry mused.

Ron began to count options off his fingers. 'It could be the effect of smelling all those fumes from their latest experiments... or they might have actually got something right for the joke shop, or Ludo Bagman flew in last night and finally coughed up—or Mum's finally agreed not to disown them.'

'Disown?'

'Well, not exactly. But she was pretty mad when she found out they still planned to set up shop. Kept saying that they should be serious now of all times.'

'Those two? Serious?' Hermione shook her head. 'That would make for a very sad day.'

'Try telling Mum that.'

'Maybe I will, next time I see her. Have you written to tell her we're going out?'

Ron smiled. 'Of course. Anyway, if I hadn't then Fred, George or Ginny would have.'

'That's not the point. All right, let's go down and eat. And while we're doing that,' her gaze slid to Harry; 'you can tell us exactly what happened in this dream.'

Harry cringed. 'And if I said I didn't remember?'

'I wouldn't believe you.'

'Right. Just checking.'

It was just possible that there were worse things than having to recall the dream during breakfast, but Harry managed to forget most of them in short order. He began to shake again as he spoke, remembering images of mangled corpses, people trampling each other as they ran from the laughing Death Eaters, flashes of green light. One particularly horrifying memory of a boy his own age standing over the body of a young Muggle girl and poking her with his wand kept sending unpleasant messages to his gut, and eventually he stopped even trying to look as though he was eating. Ron and Hermione both looked as bad as he felt. Hermione raised a hand to her mouth as he finished; for a split second Harry thought she was going to throw up.

'Oh, that's awful,' she whispered. 'Are you sure you're all right, Harry?'

'I will be.'

'Do you think—Harry, is it a real premonition, or do you think it might be...'

'Might be what?'

'I don't know—the dream might be a side effect from the pain in your scar—'

'It never has been before.'

'—Or maybe it's something that You-Know-Who is planning, something he wants to happen... not something that will happen.'

'I hope so.'

'Are you all right?' The three of them turned at the soft voice behind them; Draco was looking at Harry with as much concern as he dared show.

'What do you care?' Ron said harshly. 'This doesn't concern you.'

Draco looked taken aback. 'Fine,' he muttered, and turned away.

'No, wait,' Harry said suddenly. Draco looked back at him. 'Listen,' Harry said in a low, urgent voice. 'The meeting last night...Voldemort isn't planning anything to do with the London Underground, is he?'

Draco stared at Harry. 'Yes,' he said finally. 'He is. How did you know?'

Harry looked at his hands. They clenched into fists and he stood up. 'I need to tell Dumbledore.'

'Tell him what?'

Harry didn't answer Draco. He headed for the door, flanked by Hermione and Ron. As they left the Great Hall, Pansy Parkinson brushed past. She turned to glare back at Harry.

'That girl's going to end up needing inch-thick glasses if she doesn't stop squinting at people,' Hermione commented. 'She hasn't taken her eyes off Malfoy since he got out of the Hospital Wing.'

'Herm, Pansy hasn't taken her eyes off him since first day, first term, first year,' Ron said. He shrugged. 'I'd say they deserved each other, except that there's something very just in knowing that he'll never go for her.'

Harry fervently wished Ron would stop making remarks like that. 'Ron?'

'Yes?'

'Why don't you start reading the _History_?'

Dumbledore's reaction to the news of Harry's dream was much as he had expected. The Headmaster listened gravely, with no hint of surprise. Harry wondered exactly what had happened at the Death Eater's gathering, and regretted not having asked Draco more.

When Harry had finished, Dumbledore stood and raised one hand, to which Fawkes flew. The phoenix was on the wrong side of a burning day, and was a rather sorry sight. It looked up at Dumbledore with one sad eye. 

'The Dark Lord is moving fast,' the Headmaster said quietly. 'Perhaps too fast. Thank you for telling me about this, Harry. I will call another meeting of the Order tonight.'

'Professor, it isn't certain to happen, is it? I mean, the premonition...it might not actually come to pass. Might it?'

'Perhaps. The truth is, I don't know. Everything possible will be done to avert it, but...I have never known anyone with such strength or accuracy of vision as you.'

Harry shivered. 'But everyone's wrong sometimes, aren't they?' he persisted anxiously. 'I get things wrong in Divination all the time.'

'We can only hope, Harry.'

Harry left the room bewildered at the old man's sombre mood and more than a little disturbed by it. Ron and Hermione, who had waited for him out in the hall, looked up sharply at his exit. The _History_ slipped back into Ron's pocket.

'Well?' Hermione said pensively. 'What did he say? What now?'

Harry managed to raise the ghost of a half-smile. 'We wait and see. He's called another meeting for tonight.'

Hermione groaned. 'I've got loads of Runes homework!'

'Well, take a night off. It's not as though it's going to cost you marks or anything,' Ron said. 'What have we got first?'

'Arithmancy,' Hermione said, as Harry said, 'Divination.'

'Good.' Ron smiled, contented; once again pulling out the _History_. 'Reading time. I just got up to the castle's first-ever Quidditch match.'

Mirth tugged at the corners of Hermione's mouth as she turned away from them toward the Arithmancy classroom. Harry wished he would stop feeling so cold. 

The day passed in a blur. Not a lot happened to distinguish it from a normal school day, unless you counted Harry's poor Potions results—he didn't—but he couldn't shake the leaden feeling in his stomach. He didn't even bother to eat at lunch or dinner; merely stared into space until Ron and Hermione were done. What was Voldemort planning, that it could worry Dumbledore so much? He'd said the Dark Lord was moving too fast. How fast? Moving toward what?

Harry started at the touch of Hermione's hand on his arm. 'We need to go now.'

He nodded and they left the Great Hall in silence. Ron and Hermione, after a few failed attempts to rouse Harry from his gloomy mood, had left him more or less alone during the day.

Dumbledore's office was less crowded than it had been at the last meeting; several wizards hadn't been able to make it, and a few others simply hadn't arrived yet. Both Sirius and Remus were there, though, and the trio quickly crossed the room to them. Sirius grinned at Harry as they drew close.

'Hi, Harry. How are you?'

Harry shrugged, unable to stifle a smile at his godfather's countenance. 'All right, I guess.'

'Holding up all right through exams? Good boy. And what about you, Ron? Hermione?'

Ron smirked a little. 'There's no need to ask Hermione, Sirius. If she ever loses a mark, it's the teacher's fault, not hers.' Hermione smiled at that. Sirius laughed.

'Harry, do you know what this meeting's for? Dumbledore's message was a bit abrupt.'

'Something important happened at the Death Eater meeting last night.' Harry dropped his voice several decibels. 'I think Voldemort's planning to attack through the London Underground.'

Sirius' expression darkened and he looked across to Remus. 'Is that so?'

The door opened, and Draco stepped inside, winding through the crowd until he settled in a corner from which he could watch the whole room. A moment later, Snape and McGonagall entered together, much to Harry and Ron's amusement. As though on cue, the room fell silent.

'I understand that I called this meeting early and at short notice,' Dumbledore said. 'However, several of Voldemort's intentions became clear last night and urgent action must be taken. Firstly, he doesn't believe the giants will side with him, but isn't at all worried about that fact. The Dark Lord is so sure of himself that he intends to launch his first attack before the struggle at Azkaban is decided.' A wave of gasps and muttered comments made Dumbledore pause. Sirius and Remus exchanged the same grim look. 'We cannot afford to simply believe this is the arrogance of a powerful madman. The scale of the planned assault suggests otherwise: Voldemort and his minions will attack the London Underground through King's Cross Station two days after Christmas.'

'You can't be serious!' A tall, aristocratic wizard blurted in the ensuing silence.

'I am.'

'But...so soon?'

'Sibyl was right, then,' Mrs Figg said briskly. ' 'Greater and more terrible than before', wasn't it? Well, what are we going to do about it?'

'That has not yet been decided.' Dumbledore glanced at Snape; the air between them almost crackling with information. 'The concern is that if we directly counter the attack, Voldemort will find and uproot our spy network.'

'A covert operation, then,' a burly wizard standing near the back of the room grunted.

'Even then we'd need to be careful,' Remus said. 'Voldemort will be suspicious of any sign of magic used against him. He may even be wary of Muggle resistance.'

'What strings could we pull with the Muggle authorities to have the Underground empty on that day?'

'None,' Snape said. 'They won't budge unless they get a piece of paper with Fudge's signature on it. Besides, if the Death Eaters find the Underground empty, they'll just spill out onto the streets.'

'Perhaps we'll have to dismantle your precious spy operation and just go at the Dark Lord full pelt, Snape,' the aristocratic man said, with just the merest hint of a sneer. The Potions Master's face whitened, and Harry saw a tightness about his jaw that usually foretold of detentions, but he didn't reply.

Remus and Sirius were talking to each other urgently in very low voices. Harry caught the words 'moon' and 'potion'. Finally Remus looked to Dumbledore.

'The day of the attack is very close to the full moon. If I don't drink the potion this month, I might be able to—'

'Don't be stupid, Lupin,' Figg snapped. 'In your werewolf form you'd be as much a danger to the Muggles as anyone else.'

'Not if I go with him,' Sirius said. He shrugged. 'Only one of Voldemort's followers knows about my animagus form, and I doubt he'll be there. I can keep Remus out of trouble and help him take care of the Death Eaters. It's not foolproof by a long shot, but it may work better than anything else we come up with.'

'And how are the Muggles going to react to the presence of a werewolf?' The aristocrat said dryly.

'Have a little faith in the authorities, Melchior. Muggle governments have dealt with stray werewolves before. They'll put the word out that a couple of dangerous dogs are on the loose, the Muggles will be timid for a few weeks, and it'll all blow over.'

Melchior rolled his eyes disbelievingly, but said nothing.

'It sounds feasible,' Snape said tentatively.

'High praise,' Sirius snorted.

'The two of them might be able to scare some of the Muggles away before the attack begins—'

'We'll have to be sure there are no Muggle dog-catchers nearby—'

'Dog-catchers won't be a problem for an Animagus and a werewolf—'

Harry listened to the others talking around him with a growing sense of horror. Snatches of the dream flashed through his mind. No—he couldn't—what if Sirius or Remus became one of those bodies, mangled beyond recognition? They couldn't possibly do something so dangerous!

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, for Draco's voice cut clearly through the rest: 'You can't do it.'

Sirius turned to glare at him. 'What are you talking about? We can make it work.'

Draco shook his head. He looked as though where he was standing was the last place on earth he wanted to be, but he stood his ground. 'You can't go. Especially you. Let someone else do it.'

'No one else here could,' Remus said quietly. Draco was still staring at Sirius.

'But you're Harry's godfather! You're all the family he has!'

'Family is very important to you, isn't it, Malfoy?' Mad-Eye Moody said, his magical eye staring through the crowd directly at Draco. There was no hint of accusation in his voice, but Draco flushed and fell silent. Harry remembered how eerily intense Moody's gaze was, as though he could see to the back of you head. Which he probably could.

'Sacrifices must be made to reach any goal,' Dumbledore cut in gravely, looking all the while at Harry. 'We are at a point where we must tread carefully. Remus and Sirius's idea is the only workable plan we have, and if they are willing, we must carry it through. Do you understand?'

Harry nodded slowly. Dumbledore was right. He'd been panicking. It struck Harry how selfish he'd been—a moment ago, he would easily have left all those people to die out of a desire to keep Sirius with him.

'Is there anything we can do to drive off Voldemort's agents in Azkaban?' Snape asked. 'He'll be expecting us to take action, and a simultaneous attack there will keep attention away from what happens in the Underground.'

An immediate and intense discussion broke out among a group of men near Dumbledore. One wizard squinted back at Snape. 'What are you hoping for, exactly?'

'A distraction, a hoax. Anything that will keep attention away from London; preferably something that will keep the agents out of Azkaban for a while.'

There was another, brief huddle and the spokeswizard turned back with a nasty smile. 'I'm sure we can work something out.'

Snape returned the smile, nodding his thanks. 

'All right,' Dumbledore said. 'Does anyone have anything else to report?'

The man called Melchior shrugged. 'Ministry's getting titchy. People are beginning to draw lines in the sand and many of ours are calling for Cornelius's replacement. You can't see it from the outside yet, but the whole shebang's breaking up.'

'I see. I suppose it was a little far-fetched to hope that the Ministry would hold together without him.'

'Afraid so.'

'Anything more?' Silence. 'Then we are adjourned.'

Again, the group disappeared quickly. Harry imagined that most of the wizards were very busy people, and would fly out of Hogwarts immediately. Hermione was tugging on Ron's arm ('I have to get that homework done! No, I can't take the night off!'), so they bade Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore good night and left. On their way to the gargoyle, they passed Draco. He looked back at Harry with a small, bewildered frown and said, 'How can you do it? How can you just watch and listen and accept it all?'

'Get away, Malfoy,' Ron said, although without his usual roughness. Harry guessed that some of the things Draco said had struck a chord in him. Draco nodded and drifted out of sight.

'I wonder what he meant by that?' Hermione mused.

'Who knows what goes on in that head?' said Ron. 'Personally, I couldn't care less. Come on, do you want to do that homework or not?'

He walked ahead of them. Then he began to run.

'Why are you in such a hurry?' Harry called up the passage.

'I left _Hogwarts_ in the common room! If Fred and George get hold of it, I'm dead!'

... ... Draco's lips pressed, warm, to Harry's; Draco's hand in his as the wand fell. The cold wall behind him and Draco's other hand moving through his hair; the touch of a tongue begging entry, the rush of cold air as he stepped away...

... ...

... ... Harry emitted a frustrated growl as he woke. Why was he so fixated by that one memory? Since the Hogsmeade visit, the only night he hadn't dreamed of Draco was the one in which he'd been haunted by visions of the Underground attack.

Ron's voice filtered through the curtains drawn around the bed. 'Are you awake, Harry?'

'Yes,' Harry flicked the curtains aside and blinked in the sharp sunlight streaming through the window. 'What's the time?'

'About time you got up,' Dean said. 'Honestly, Harry, one night you wake us all up screaming, the next we can't sleep for the sound of your snores! We have got Double Potions to get through this morning, you know.'

Harry swore.

'Hey, at least you got a full night's sleep in,' Dean went on petulantly. 'Whatever you were dreaming about, it must have been really wonderful for you to want to stay there so long.'

Harry felt his ears begin to burn. Ron grinned.

'I bet it was Cho,' he said. 'When are you going to get around to asking her out, Harry? The suspense is killing us all. You'd better hurry up with it, I think she's beginning to get impatient. She's certainly been watching you a lot the past few days.'

Harry blinked. 'She has?'

The other four boys in the room exchanged glances. 'You mean you haven't noticed?' Seamus said slowly.

'No...' Harry shrugged. 'I suppose I've been too distracted.'

'Yeah,' Dean said. 'You must have been very distracted.'

Ten minutes later Harry and Ron joined Hermione in the Great Hall. Through breakfast, Harry kept stealing glances at the Ravenclaw table. Ron was right; there was barely a time when he looked over that Cho wasn't gazing in his direction as well. He smiled. Perhaps he would ask her out, soon. Very soon.

But Cho wasn't the only thing on his mind that morning. It was fast becoming apparent that he was going to have to do something about the dreams. They hadn't progressed any further than the memory of the kiss, thankfully, but the persistence of those images was...irksome. And while the dream recalled every detail of the event almost exactly, the revulsion Harry had felt only came when he woke up.

He hadn't told anyone about them, but he thought he was going to have to. Harry decided immediately that Ron and Hermione were out of the question; he could imagine Ron's reaction and didn't like it at all. Perhaps Cho...Harry glanced at the Ravenclaw table again, and shook his head. If he couldn't tell her before, he wouldn't be able to now. He briefly considered going to McGonagall, but dropped that line of thought quickly. If she didn't know about Draco, she wasn't to find out. Besides, the Professor, for all that she was a good person, was somehow too straitlaced for Harry to talk to—especially about something like this. Dumbledore? Well, he might be able to help. Harry had never regretted following the Headmaster's advice before, but he didn't want to bother the man more than he already was. And...

...Dumbledore was, to a certain extent, like a grandfather to him. Harry didn't want to break that, certainly not by asking him about something as...disgusting...as this.

So that left...

Harry pushed his plate aside so that he could bang his head on the table. Ron gave him an extremely odd look.

'Are you okay there?'

'I just realised something,' Harry groaned.

'What?'

'We have Double Potions this morning!'

Seamus shot him a puzzled frown. 'We know. So did you. Dean told you when you woke up, remember?'

'Yes, but...we've got _Double Potions this morning_!'

'Harry, we _know_,' Hermione told him. 'And we're going to be late if you don't get a move on. Come on, you're going to give yourself concussion if you keep doing that. Don't you think that's just a bit of an overreaction?'

'No,' Ron said. Hermione turned an exasperated glare on him, grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

'Come on,' she said briskly. 'You've survived two sessions with Snape before, you can do it again.'

_Yes,_ Harry thought gloomily. _But two sessions and a lunch-hour? Of my own _accord_?_

The first two sessions actually weren't that bad. Even the Slytherins had found the examinations difficult to cope with, and Snape must have decided to ease up on them slightly. He set the class theoretical work rather than practical for once, and as long as Harry kept himself fairly inconspicuous he wasn't forced to answer too many impossible questions. When class ended, Snape disappeared into his office. Harry sat and waited for the rest of the class to leave, waving Ron and Hermione away with a gesture and a rueful smile. They looked puzzled, but left anyway. Harry knew that they had their own plans to carry out, mostly involving each other.

A few minutes later, Harry knocked quietly at the door to Snape's office.

'It's open and I forgot to set the Biting Charm this morning, so you might as well come in,' the professor's voice was surly. Harry entered cautiously. Snape's eyes filled with immediate dislike as he looked around. A steaming mug was clasped in his hands.

'If you've come to beg me to change your grades, Potter, the answer is no. And it's not changing, either.'

'It's not that.' Harry eyed the mug suspiciously. 'What's in that?'

'Coffee,' Snape growled.

'Black?'

The professor shot him a withering look. 'You know it all, don't you Potter?' he sneered, putting the mug down. By the looks of things, it had a fair amount of milk in it. 'Well, why are you in here? Lose your way getting to the Great Hall?'

'Grant me a little intelligence,' Harry snapped. Snape blinked. 'I need to talk to you. It's—it's about Draco.'

Snape sighed wearily. 'What has he done now?'

'No, it's not...he hasn't done anything but...'

'You have to speak if you want to talk, Potter,' the Potions Master said impatiently.

Harry flushed. 'I've been having dreams about him.'

Snape was silent for a very long time, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. Harry felt himself becoming increasingly red. 'Stop looking at me like that! I came here for your help!'

'Help from me?' Snape gave a short, brittle laugh. 'What do you want me to do, Potter? Mix up a potion to make the nightmares go away?'

'It's not funny.' The quiet hurt in Harry's voice must have got through to Snape, because his cold expression faltered a little.

'I'm sorry, Potter, but I'm more inclined to worry about Draco than you at the moment. My guess would be that these dreams of yours are trying to tell you something you'd rather not hear.'

Harry swallowed, although his mouth was dry. 'I'm not gay, Snape. I'm not. Stop trying to force the idea on me, I don't want Draco, I'm not gay!'

Snape's expression hardened. 'I never said that. And while you stand there and whine about your little night-time problems, why don't you try looking at things from that boy's perspective. He's been through a hell of a lot, Harry. When Draco did what he did, he wasn't just going out on a limb, he jumped out of the tree. He was relying on you to catch him and you dropped him like a diseased rat! Think about that the next time you're feeling sorry for yourself.'

Harry stared at him. 'Why do you care about him so much?'

Snape's eyes became black icicles. His voice was a low, frosty growl. 'Why don't you?'

Harry's breath came in short, unbelieving snatches. Snape's words were far more than the malicious jabs that were the man's stock in trade, and they cut him to the bone. Harry saw a wall of pent-up emotion behind Snape's eyes, most of which he either couldn't or didn't want to comprehend.

'You weren't like this last time we spoke.'

'You might recall I was drunk at the time,' Snape said in steely tones.

'I see. Well, this was obviously a waste of my time.'

Harry backed away, reaching behind him to open the door. Snape's cold gaze never left his face even as it swung closed between them. Harry leaned against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe. He felt as though he'd just fallen through extremely thin ice.

'Hi, Harry.'

He looked up. Cho was walking down the corridor to him, smiling. He smiled weakly back. 'Hi, Cho.'

Her eyes darted to the door of Snape's office and back at him. 'Just had an argument?'

'Something like that.'

Cho tilted her head back, appraising him. 'Harry, would you mind if I did a reading on you?'

'Hasn't your class started scrying yet?'

'Well, yes, but...' Cho pulled a pack of ornate cards from her pocket, laughing. 'I'm rapidly becoming obsessed with these things. Please?'

Harry smiled, beginning to relax. Being around Cho was exactly what he needed. 'Fine. Where to?'

'The Library.'.

Madam Pince looked around sharply as they entered, but smiled and went quietly back to cataloguing the grimoires. Apparently Cho was a frequent and welcome visitor. They sat opposite each other in a secluded corner, and Cho pushed the deck toward Harry.

'Shuffle,' she commanded.

Harry watched Cho as he flicked the cards through his hands. Her eyes were alive with a special kind of curiosity he hadn't come across before. He got the feeling that she wanted to know about him simply to know, not to judge. It was a pleasant feeling. Perhaps he should have gone to her instead of Snape. Cho would have understood everything, he was sure. And she wouldn't judge Draco, either.

He handed the cards back to her. 'Deal.'

With a small smile Cho began to lay the cards out.

'The Celtic Cross,' Harry noted.

'You didn't think I'd be satisfied with just a three-card spread?'

'Why not? It always suited me: past, present, future. Easy.'

'Yes, but I like doing it this way. You can see more.' Cho put the tenth card down and took a notebook from a pocket concealed somewhere in the folds of her robes. She began taking notes on the spread.

'So what have I got?' Harry said, glancing at the spread.

'Just give me a minute...' Cho's eyebrows were knotted in a small frown of concentration. After a moment she paused to flick a few pages back. Her eyes widened. 'Well, now...that's interesting...'

'What is?'

'Your reading...it looks a lot like...'

'Yes?' 

'...Malfoy's...'

Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop away. 'What does that mean?'

'I don't know. It could be just a coincidence, but...well, Trelawney would glance at a pair of spreads like this and say your fates were entwined.'

Harry snorted, about to comment on the Professor's dubious talents, but Cho cut him off. 'I know she's mostly a fraud, Harry. But she does know her work, and it's very rare to get two spreads so similar—especially so close together. I only took Malfoy's reading a couple of days ago.'

'Well, what's my reading?'

Cho pursed her lips. 'You're Covered by the Page of Cups, and I'd say that represents a person who is at the heart of an issue in your life at the moment. A young, pale person—Cups usually indicate fair skin and hair, and light eyes, and Pages typically symbolise youth. I'd also judge that the issue has some sort of emotional implication, since Cups represent the heart.

'This person is Crossed by the Devil, which could be taken to mean that self-imposed bonds are holding you back in resolving the problem. The Devil can also represent a destructive person; a shadow.'

'Sounds like Voldemort,' Harry muttered.

'I'd take more notice of the self-imposed bonds part, Harry,' Cho said gently. 'The Devil represents great obstacles but it usually centres on what is within you, not what is on the outside.

'Beneath you is Judgement.'

Harry laughed. 'I know some people who'd have a few things to say about that.'

She smiled. 'Judgement represents rebirth: the end of an old cycle and the beginning of a new one. In this case it shows past influences, so perhaps something has happened in the past—some kind of conclusion, or something has begun again, which is still affecting you now?'

Harry's eyes clouded over. 'Conclusion and rebirth? Yeah, that'd be fair to say.' _Conclusion of Cedric's life and the rebirth of Voldemort. That's holding plenty of sway over my life at the moment._

'Behind you is the Ace of Cups; a return to emotions, I see. Something has happened in the recent past to stir new feelings in you. This is a very good card; it deals with positive feelings, especially love.'

'I can't think of anything like that.' Harry's brow furrowed. 'Except...'

'Except...?'

He shook his head, blushing slightly. 'Never mind, it doesn't matter. It can't be right anyway.'

Cho looked at him strangely, but continued. 'You're Crowned by the reversed Moon. This means that you will have an opportunity to begin to think more clearly about the issue, but the Moon, even when reversed, can also represent illusions, secrets and danger.' Cho bit her lip. 'This position shows future possibilities. Be careful, Harry.

'The Wheel of Time is Before you—in the near future, you will come to a conclusion in relation to the problem, and will make a fresh start.

'Your Querent card is the Two of Swords, which is odd. Swords usually represent people with dark hair and light eyes, which you have, but the olive complexion usually associated with Swords throws the picture slightly askew. The card indicates that you are at an impasse, and don't know quite what to do; which way to go. You could be suppressing some important emotions. Given the emotional tendency of the spread so far, I would start listening closely to what is in your heart.

'The Seven of Wands here indicates that you are daunted by the opinions of those around you, but what you fear may well be non-existent. Despite the opposition you perceive, you can still resolve the problem.

'The Justice card shows that you expect to be judged, and given the previous card I would say that you're afraid of that judgement—but you hope it will be a fair one, don't you?' Cho glanced up briefly, a strange, unknown emotion sparking in her eyes before she looked back at the notebook. 'Then there is the final outcome: the Nine of Swords.'

'The card of despair,' Harry recalled. 

'Yes.'

'So the problem can be resolved, but all it will bring is despair,' Harry said heavily. 'Wonderful. How is Malfoy's reading like mine?'

'Well, let's see...the core of his problem is also crossed by the Devil. He also has the Ace of Cups behind him, but it's reversed—he's been rejected.'

Harry's mouth dropped open. Cho, not seeing his reaction, continued. 'He has the Wheel of Time before him as well, and the Nine of Swords as the outcome. And,' she chewed her lower lip, 'this is very strange. You aren't Covered by the same card, and you don't have the same Querent card either. But you are Covered by each other's Querent.'

Harry blinked. 'Come again?'

'Draco is covered by the Two of Swords.'

'Me,' Harry said softly.

'Perhaps. And Malfoy's Self is the Page of Cups

'So he's my problem.' Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'Cho, there's something--'

'There's something else I didn't tell you about the Page of Cups,' Cho cut over him suddenly. 'It—I noted it in Malfoy's reading.'

She pushed the notebook across to him and sat back, watching him pensively. Harry stared at the notes scribbled under the heading of Self. Between the accurate descriptions of a pale, emotional youth, were two words that had been faintly underlined. He noticed that the underline rose slightly across the page, as though Cho had wanted to strike the words away:

_Possibly homosexual?_

Harry passed the notebook back, drawing a slow breath. 'What made you put that particular note down?'

Cho flushed, clasping the book tightly. Harry was disconcerted; it was the first time he'd seen her look nervous.

'I've been watching him, just lately,' she said. 'I noticed that he stares at you a lot, and the way he looks at you—' she faltered, then went on, more quietly. 'Let's say that if I saw a girl looking at a boy that way I'd swear black and blue she was smitten. And there's more, too,' Cho rushed on as Harry opened his mouth. 'He—he can't touch girls, Harry. I've seen the way he keeps away from them in crowds, and when I dropped the pack in front of him—when he was handing it back, it almost fell again because he was so afraid of our fingers brushing. And when he speaks to you, he seems—I don't know—more interested...'

'More interested than when?'

'Than anytime. It's—he just seems to be more intent on living when he's around you.'

Harry stared at her. 'You're very perceptive, Cho.'

She stared at the ground. 'That's not a compliment, though, is it?'

He sighed, brushing a hand through his hair again. 'It might have been, if this wasn't so serious. What do you think all this means, then?'

Cho was silent for a long time. When she did speak, her voice was measured, and very carefully clinical. 'I think that Malfoy does have feelings for you, which he may have been hiding for a while, but something terrible happened to him recently—beneath him is the Ten of Swords—to make him begin to give up. Something that might have prompted him to—to try to show you how he felt. But you didn't react the way he was hoping, and that was why he...did what he did to himself, wasn't it?'

Harry was silent, waiting for her to continue.

'All this has created a lot of tension between you—'

'There's always been tension between Malfoy and I. It's called enmity.'

'Yes, but there's even more tension now, and you're not exactly enemies any more. You've stopped fighting, at least. I think the tension is the unresolved problem between you; you're both being held back from resolving that by self-imposed restraints. I think Malfoy is afraid to do anything to drive you further away from him. But you...I think that whatever happened affected you more than you admit, even to yourself...'

Harry shook his head. 'I don't want to hear this, Cho. Yes, Malfoy kissed me, and that's why he tried to kill himself, because I pushed him away, I understand that. You're right about that. But I...I'm not like him. I've been through this once already today. I'm _not_ gay.' He couldn't keep the rising desperation out of his words.

'I never said that,' Cho said in a very small voice. Harry's head jerked a little at the way she echoed Snape. 'And the cards don't say it either. I just think you've been affected more than you let on, and you're not going to get out of this situation until you do. You've got to forget about whatever's holding you back and try to solve the problem, whatever you perceive it to be. You need to get past this and on to other things.'

'What's the point?' he said, pointing to the Nine of Swords. 'It'll all end in tears anyway.'

'I honestly don't know what that card might be warning of, Harry,' Cho said quietly. 'But I can tell you that if you don't try to patch things up with Malfoy, it will probably be worse. Much worse.'

'Whatever the cards say goes, is that it?'

'No. Whatever goes, the cards say.' She began to pick up the cards, shuffling them absently back into the deck. 'I need to go now. Sorry, Harry.' She paused to tear the two readings from the notebook, and pressed them into Harry's hand as she leant forward to kiss him softly on the cheek, in the same spot she had before. Then she stood and disappeared quickly among the shelves.

Harry stared at the two pieces of paper in his palm. '_I never said that...the cards don't either._'

_But they do_, he thought miserably. _Because the only way to solve this is if I...if I let him—let us... _

That's the only way to make Draco happy.

... .... ... And what about me?


	7. Silhouettes

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: This chapter contains slash, and that's it for this one. If you can't handle that, you should have pressed the Back button by the end of the first chapter. Likewise if you're under fifteen years old and not of my sister's mature disposition.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To: Penelope-Z, Thalia, Silver Radcliffe, S. Maldiva (Feel more sorry for Draco. I couldn't believe how much prodding I had to do to get Harry to come around. *Glares at the Boy Who Lived* *Evil grin* I'm not giving anything away about the ending, except that it isn't so near. There's a lot more set to happen yet.), Wednesday (You're right, not much really happened last time, but sometimes you've got to stop and sow the ground before you can smell the roses. Snape bows before you in humble gratitude—tries, anyway, the humble part's giving him a bit of trouble. Action? A very little bit, but not between who you're expecting.), SoulSister, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Juliana Black, Canarde, Kcarke (Hermione has always struck me as a rather matronly, over-protective person. Sometimes she gets a bit mad in her method, which is just fun to use. The plan between Remus and Sirius was all I could concoct as a defence against Voldemort's plan, and the opportunity to play up Draco's concern for Harry was too good to waste.), DrWorm, Evil Windstar, Jessica (Yes, took him long enough, didn't it? Snape's getting tired of seeing Draco so unhappy, and of course he has his own reasons. You'll see.), MistWalker (Thank you. Creating the tarot readings gave me a good excuse to nick one of Mum's books for a while…^^;), Britt, cooldot (Emotionally packed? Heh…and it isn't anywhere near the climax yet. Thank you. J ), Katarina.

Special thanks to Apocalypse, who beta-read this chapter for me.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, everyone!

****

All Torn Down: Silhouettes

Ride on • Through the night • Ride on

Ride on • Through the night • Ride on

…

There are visions, there are memories

There are echoes of thundering hooves

There are fires, there is laughter

There's the sound of a thousand doves

…

In the velvet of the darkness

By the silhouette of silent trees

They are watching, they are waiting

They are witnessing life's mysteries

…

Cascading stars on the slumbering hills

They are dancing as far as the sea.

Riding o'er the land, you can feel its gentle hand

Leading on to its destiny.

…

Take me with you on this journey

Where the boundaries of time are now tossed,

In cathedrals of the forest

In the words of the tongues now lost

…

Find the answers, ask the questions

Find the roots of an ancient tree

Take me dancing, take me singing

I'll ride on till the moon meets the see

…

Ride on • Through the night • Ride on

Ride on • Through the night • Ride on

…

Hogwarts empty was almost as stifling as Hogwarts full of students. The only students remaining at school during the holidays aside from the Dream Team were the three chosen by Voldemort to spy on Harry. Draco decided that if the atmosphere in the castle was typical of all holidays, he was glad he hadn't stayed before. The air reeked of suspicion and caution. 

Meals were eaten at the staff's table, in deadly silence—not enforced by the teachers but by the emotions teeming through the air. Draco sat by Snape, the only person in whose presence he felt completely accepted. He would watch Harry talking to Ron and Hermione, seeing the faint signs of worry on the youth's face become more marked as Christmas drew near. Draco wanted to tell him not to worry, though it would be pointless. He'd tried, hadn't he, to keep Black from embarking on the foolhardy mission? Harry had still given in. He hadn't wanted to, but one word from Dumbledore and he folded. Draco couldn't understand what power the Headmaster exerted over Harry; it was subtle as a zephyr in a gale, but it was there nevertheless.

Berald and the Gryffindor, who was a seventh year and was only recognised by the teachers, did their jobs well. They glided noiselessly through the castle, happening to appear wherever Harry was, or hiding away nearby in order to eavesdrop. They certainly seemed more skilled at stalking Potter than Draco was; his efforts were dogged by the frequent murderous glances the Weasel threw back at him, between reading Granger's tome. It ground upon Draco's raw nerves to be kept so far away from Harry. At least once he would have been able to brawl with him, but now he couldn't get near.

He followed the trio down to Hagrid's cottage on Christmas Eve—_happening_ to be in the vicinity of the Gryffindor common room when they skulked out in the early hours of the morning. The air was laden with winter fog and snow crunched and squeaked beneath Draco's boots as he followed at a safe distance. There had been light snowfalls since three days before school broke up, and without hordes of students to trample it into the ground, a thin but pristine layer of white lay across the lawns. 

Hagrid hailed Harry, Ron and Hermione with a deep bellow and ushered them into the cottage. Draco, aware that he was in plain sight, contrived to look as though he had felt like a wintry morning stroll and had nothing to do with them. Once they'd disappeared inside, he hastened to the window and peered through the frosted glass.

All he could make out were vague coloured shapes and movement within the cottage, but he resisted the urge to wipe a clear spot on the pane, knowing that would give him away. Draco could hear faint sounds emitting from the room: Hagrid's hearty laughter, Harry's voice interceding Granger and Weasley's banter. A rosy glow tinted the room, cast from a blur where he judged the fireplace was, given that no one was panicking.

Draco felt like a lost child locked out of the gingerbread cottage, and the sweetest thing he saw inside was Harry. He brushed snow from the window sill and tucked his head down, bracing his arm against the sill as a pillow. For a few moments he allowed himself to pleasure in the memory of the kiss. He sighed happily, recalling the smell of him, and the taste. Yes, Harry was sweet, but not like some sugar-filled contrivance. Just himself.

When Draco looked up again, the curtains had been pulled closed over the window. He turned away, fighting back the bitterness that rose. He'd been their enemy for too long, especially to Weasley. How could they be expected to tolerate him after everything he'd done?

'Nothing worth seeing?' 

Draco froze, jolted from his thoughts. Berald was standing a stone's throw away, watching him with cool, expressionless eyes.

'Well? It's damned cold out here, Malfoy. I'd like to get back to a nice warm fire if they're not doing anything important.'

Draco pulled himself together. He rolled a shoulder dismissively, allowing some of his old arrogance to show in his eyes. He and Gerard Berald had never got on. 'Go, then. There's nothing to see, and nothing worth hearing either.'

Gerard sniffed, glancing at the cottage's chimney. 'We should get up there and throw snow down. That'd hamper their Christmas cheer, all right.'

Draco snorted. 'Don't be daft. We'd be far too conspicuous. We're supposed to be watching them, not playing meaningless little games.'

Berald's face contorted into a sneer that made Draco want to pummel him. 'You'd never have said that before. You've changed too much, Malfoy.'

'What are you trying to say?'

'I'm saying, watch your step. You seem to think that the position of Prince-of-Darkness is yours by default, whatever you do. Wrong! Voldemort might be lenient enough to give you another chance, but trying to kill yourself is as good as a betrayal of loyalty. Watch your step, Malfoy, or you'll get thrown.'

Draco was shivering. He tried to pretend that it was from the cold. 'Thanks for the friendly warning. I never thought I was the Prince of Darkness, or whatever you want to call it. Everyone around me made certain I had no choice!'

'Really? You poor, oppressed thing. Well, here's your choice now: redeem yourself, and quickly, or you'd better run to Dumbledore and hope the old fool has enough magic left to protect you.'

Draco snarled. 'I have nothing to redeem myself for, Berald. Go back to your precious fire.'

Gerard looked him up and down with a slow, disdainful roll of his eyes, spun stiffly and slouched away, grinding the snow beneath his feet. 

Draco stood still for a moment, debating whether or not to return to the castle. He turned and marched resolutely towards the Forbidden Forest for no real reason other than that it was in the opposite direction Berald had gone. He hadn't been there since the detention with Hagrid in first year. He realised by now that it had been his first encounter with Voldemort, too—a memory which still occasionally woke him up at night. After almost five years, he felt it was about time he set that ghost to rest.

The only trees in the Forest that still bore leaves were evergreens, but the growth and the fog were so thick that the various trails leading into its heart were lost to sight within a few feet. Draco shivered. Truly told, the bare gnarls raking skywards were more sinister than the midnight forest he recalled. But then, he hadn't seen much of it before; only the areas on which Hagrid's lamp had shed its light.

Draco chose a path and tramped along it. The trail was covered with dead, thorny undergrowth that caught at his boots and tore his robe. Draco ignored the thorns. They would give the house elves something interesting to do when he got back to the castle.

Even though it was winter, the Forbidden Forest was still very much alive. All around him, Draco heard soft footfalls, the slither of loathsome beasts sliding through the undergrowth ahead of him, the chirrups and calls of birds somehow hidden from view despite the starkness of the branches overhead. Sometimes he thought he saw eyes gleaming and faces watching him from behind a tree or a rock, and at one point he swore a little web-fingered entity sprang out from a cluster of toadstools he'd nearly trodden on, and shook a fist at him. But when he looked around, the creature was gone.

The path ended in the midst of a grove of pines. Draco spun slowly, taking in the rare, deep green iced with white frosting around him. The sky was lightening through the fog overhead, and his breath billowed and curled, silvery, through the air. Here, there was utter silence, and he wasn't certain whether the thick foliage of the trees around him blocked the noise of the outside forest, or whether someone had cast a Silencing Charm over the grove. It had the sense of something solemn and holy. Draco was torn between remaining to absorb the ambience and leaving the place undefiled by his presence.

The moment was trampled when a blur of pale colour broke through the trees in front of Draco. He cried out and jumped aside to avoid being run down by the thing, vaguely aware of hoof-beats and a deep, equine grunt as the creature hauled itself to a halt with great effort. There was a tense moment in which the two regarded each other, Draco snatching quick breaths and trying to keep his frantic heart from breaking through his ribs.

It was a centaur; a Palomino. Sweat glistened on his pale torso and he was panting with exertion. Draco wondered briefly how he could stand to keep his body bared in such cold, before he met the centaur's eyes. It watched him suspiciously from deep blue eyes that were half hidden beneath a shock of long, blond hair, and gave an imperious stamp, snorting. 'Who are you?'

Draco tried to gather his wits. 'My name is Draco Malfoy.'

'Malfoy?'

Draco glanced away, somehow ashamed. 'Yes.'

The centaur looked him over slowly, a distant look in the blue eyes. 'A Malfoy no more.' Draco looked up, startled, but the creature merely rolled his shoulders and pawed the ground. He jerked his head back in the general direction of Hogwarts. 'Student?' Draco nodded. The suspicion in the centaur's gaze deepened. 'Why are you here, Draco who isn't a Malfoy?'

Draco looked about the grove again, partly wanting to recall the sense of peace that had been scattered, but mostly out of a need to evade those searching eyes. 'I just wanted to see the forest.' 

He flinched as he heard the centaur take a few steps closer to him. The unwavering gaze took on a knowing overtone. 'You fear to be touched.'

'I do not!'

The centaur sighed and tilted its head far back, staring at the rough circle of sky visible above the pines. 'The darkness falls,' he said mournfully.

Draco blinked. 'Sorry?'

'The darkness falls,' the centaur repeated without changing its tone.

'No it doesn't. It's morning. The darkness is lifting now.'

The centaur's gaze snapped back to him. 'The darkness,' he said firmly, 'falls. And the Lion is in the East.'

'Really? Good for it. I'm just going to—' 

'The hyena waits in shadows.' The centaur's voice cut across Draco's, not so much an interruption as the continuation of a one-sided conversation in which Draco's opinion didn't appear. 'And I am Firenze.' Without a word more or a glance back, Firenze pushed his way out of the grove.

'Thanks for the enlightening conversation,' Draco muttered. 

A freezing wind rattled the trees around him and Draco shivered, not so much from the intermittent gusts that sought their way through the branches to him, as the sound it made. The grove was fast losing its appeal. He stepped between the trunks of two massive trees, pushing low-hanging boughs out of his way. They snapped back into place once he was through, and amid the rest of the forest, it was impossible to tell that the grove was there.

He hadn't come out the way he'd come in, and the path was nowhere to be seen; nor was Draco certain of the way back now. Muttering a few expletives, he selected a direction and trod onward. After a while it became apparent that he'd chosen the wrong way. The trees were growing closer together and their shadows mingling with fog made it impossible for Draco to see more than a few feet ahead. His robes were growing damp and he was becoming bone-cold as he tried to find a comprehensible track through the mist. Draco was on the verge of turning back when a faint glow of firelight glimmering through the trees on the very limits of his vision caught his eye. He drew his robes close about him and headed to the light. Gods knew he could do with the warmth.

As he moved closer, Draco made out a figure sitting on the damp ground in front of the fire, back braced against the trunk of a convenient tree, mostly caught in the shadows cast down from the close boughs overhead. Draco paused, not certain that he'd be a welcome visitor.

'You might as well come all the way now,' the figure said. Draco relaxed slightly; it was the Gryffindor.

'How did you know I was here?' He called, taking a few more steps.

'I've been listening to you stamping around for the last five minutes. The Forbidden Forest isn't a good place to come for quiet.' The Gryffindor gestured at the undergrowth around him. He'd had to clear a sizeable patch to light the fire. 'Nothing moves in this place without something else knowing,' he concluded as Draco closed the last of the distance between himself and the fire. The warmth sent a shudder of pleasure through Draco.

'What are you doing here?'

The other boy shrugged. 'I felt like burning something and scaring the other creatures around here away for a while.' Draco was certain he was lying. 'You?'

'I haven't been in here for years. Chalk it up to nostalgia.'

The Gryffindor laughed. It was a short bark of heartfelt amusement, abruptly gone. He looked up at Draco appraisingly. 'You don't know who I am, do you?'

'No.'

The boy raised his hand to Draco. 'Kieran Harper.'

'Draco Malfoy.'

'Of course,' Harper grinned as they shook hands. 'Your exploits against the Potter fan-club are famous. Although, certain of us have noticed that they seem to have dissipated lately.'

Draco shrugged. 'I have more important things to do.'

'Or perhaps just bigger ones,' Harper suggested. He cocked his head, staring quizzically into the fire, although Draco had an idea the expression was subconsciously directed at him. 'So, what do you think of our Dark Lord's grand Christmas plan?'

Draco considered the question carefully. Kieran's tone made it a challenge, but his words made his loyalty to Voldemort seem ambiguous. He decided to take a small hop of faith. 'I'm glad we don't have to do it. Didn't exactly give a lot of notice, did he?'

The other boy grunted. 'So you prefer to stay here and watch Potter? Then again, you've been doing that for a while, haven't you?' He shifted slightly closer to the flames. 'But I am glad that it's not my hide on the line out there. Do you realise that after this the Ministry would have to be crazy not to pull out the Aurors against us?'

Draco was silent.

'No, much better to stay here. Do you think Dumbledore's got wind of any of this somehow?'

'Voldemort swore every one of us to secrecy.'

'That doesn't stop some people's lips from flapping. And I can just bet he's got spies planted somewhere.'

'You don't seem very worried about it.'

Kieran shrugged. 'We're Voldemort's, aren't we?'

'Is that supposed to be some twisted Gryffindor concept of fair play?'

Another short bark of laughter. 'So, just saying Headmaster does know—what do you think he'd do about it?'

'I don't know. He'd try something, though—anything—to stop it.'

'A desperate man, then...I don't see it, myself. He knows a lot more than he lets on.'

'You seem to have a lot of respect for someone who's supposed to be the enemy.'

'He's Voldemort's enemy, not mine. I'm just a minion.'

Draco sat down, glaring suspiciously at him. 'If you don't hate Dumbledore, why did you join with the Death Eaters? Is it Potter?'

'Him? Oh Gods, no. For all we actually _know_, Potter's just a pawn in all this—much the same as we are.' Harper raised his hand before him, idly watching the firelight glance off his nails. 'I joined because I decided I didn't want to be on the losing side.'

'Is that so?' Draco's voice was shaking; he couldn't help it. To hear Harry being talked about like that, as though he were some insignificant detail, not even worthy of hatred— 'And I suppose that if Dumbledore gained the upper hand you'd trade the Mark in and switch sides?'

Kieran looked steadily at him. 'We all do whatever it takes for us to survive. Why did _you_ join?'

Draco bit his lip, staring hard at the fire. _I was forced to,_ was what he wanted to say, but it was far too dangerous. 'I grew up surrounded by the Dark Arts. It seemed only natural that I become a Death Eater when the opportunity arose.'

'But sometimes the things that seem so natural feel utterly wrong,' Kieran muttered, gazing distantly through the fog-ridden shadows. 'And I bet your plan is to work your way up, as close to Voldemort as possible, yes?'

'That...is the idea.'

Harper's head tilted back to gaze at Draco's face. The fire reflected in his hazel irises made the look seem as it though it could pierce through Draco's skull to the thoughts within. 'Whose idea, though?'

Draco bared his teeth, aware that he might have somehow let slip something important. 'What does that mean? Don't stare at me like that!'

Harper didn't seem very worried about Draco's sudden flare of temper. He turned away to stare at a random low-hanging branch. 'You should go now. You might want to get someone to look at those robes, too. They're pretty wretched at the moment.'

'I _was_ aware of that,' Draco said coldly, standing up and brushing himself off. 'Well?'

Kieran's head swung around. 'Well what?'

'Are you coming back to the castle?'

'Not now.'

'You just want to get rid of me, is that it?'

A careless shrug. 'It's no longer in my interests that you stay here.'

'Always looking out for yourself,' Draco muttered disgustedly. 'How did you get to be a Gryffindor?'

'I'm a turncoat, Malfoy, not a coward. And it probably isn't in either of our interests to admit this meeting ever happened. Goodbye.' Draco hesitated, still unsure of the way back to Hogwarts. Harper raised a languid arm and pointed through the trees behind him. 'That way's fastest.'

Draco nodded and set off, trying to ignore the noises of the forest around him. The fog was lifting, and he wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing, because it meant he could see around him now and the Forbidden Forest was about as far removed from a topiary garden as a crone was from a princess. 

After about ten minutes he emerged from the forest and continued towards the castle, bypassing Hagrid's now-empty cottage and the seething waters of the lake. The giant octopus kept ice from forming on the water's surface by constantly churning around beneath it, not that any of the creatures within the lake would suffer from a coating of ice. It was more that the octopus enjoyed its vantage point of the school and didn't want to the view to be clouded inconveniently, and so kept its tentacles firmly in the door of the gingerbread cottage.

Once inside, Draco hurried back to his room and tore his tattered robes off, changing quickly into clothes that wouldn't need darning. He hadn't run into anyone on his way, and now that he could properly see the thorns' handiwork he was very glad. Probably even the house elves couldn't mend that mess, but he should at least try them. He could get something to eat while he was in the kitchens—he'd have long since missed breakfast in the Great Hall. Draco gathered up his robes and walked through the wall.

Draco knew the way to the kitchens well: he'd once followed the Weasley twins there during his first year at Hogwarts and had since committed the way to memory.When he entered, the place was bustling. Dirty dishes loomed in precarious stacks on one end of a bench, at which sat a series of house elves busily scrubbing and drying as the items were passed along. At the far end of the bench was a crowd of elves from which one or two occasionally hurried away, clutching the clean dishes in neat piles in their hands. In another area of the room lunch was already being prepared by another busy horde, and several more were fussing over dirty linen. The place was a hive, and it was only the holidays.

A house elf scurrying back to the bench after placing a pile of plates in a cupboard bumped into Draco. It gazed up at him in utmost surprise and squeaked, 'Did sir want something?'

'Yes,' Draco said immediately. 'I want these robes—'

There was a watery clatter of dishes and the little elf was shoved aside, its face replaced by another, more familiar visage. 'What is young Master Malfoy doing here?'

Draco stared. 'Dobby? Is that you?'

The elf's chin came up defiantly. 'Dobby works here now.' Dobby's mouth widened into a wicked grin. '_And_ I is getting wages, too.'

A wooden spoon thrown with some force hurtled through the air inches above Dobby's head. He quailed and looked sheepishly back at the dishwashing line, from which a small female elf was advancing with a look of pure thunder on her face.

'Dobby! How many times is I telling you not to say that word! Dobby should be grateful that Dumbledore lets Dobby stay here at all!' The female ranted on, and Draco noticed that the rest of the room had gone oddly still as the other elves listened in. 'Asking money asks trouble, mark you! Dobby shouldn't be such a burden on the master, _a whole Galleon_ he is paying for work any house elf will do for food and home! It is a disgrace on us all, surely Master Malfoy agrees.'

Draco blinked as attention turned abruptly to him. The female elf waited expectantly for his reply. He sat down and pointed at her. 'What is your name?'

'Winky, sir.' She smiled shyly at him, and a series of memories flickered through Draco's mind.

'That's right, you were Mr Crouch's house elf, weren't you?'

Winky's face metamorphosed to an expression of anguish and she covered her eyes with her hands. 'I is a bad, bad elf, Master Malfoy!'

From what Draco's father had told him, Winky had been a bad servant; not disobedient, but clumsy. However, he had a feeling she was talking about something else altogether.

'Nonsense,' he said, and she looked up in surprise. Draco shook a finger at her. 'There's no such thing as a bad elf who works at Hogwarts.'

Winky blushed. 'Sir is too kind.'

'Why do you ask for money, Dobby?' Draco said, becoming interested in the dispute in spite of himself. He knew a little about house elf customs, and the idea of an elf wanting pay seemed absurd.

Dobby sniffed. 'Dobby's work is worth paying for.'

'You is too big in your head!' Winky snapped.

Draco looked from one to the other thoughtfully. Obviously his robes weren't going to be seen to until the argument was somehow resolved. 'Does Dumbledore mind paying?' 

The two elves stared at him, then at each other. A triumphant smile spread across Dobby's face. 'He does not, sir.'

'Then if Dobby wants the pay he offers, I suppose that's all right,' he said slowly, watching both their reactions carefully, as well as gauging the response around the room. Winky looked devastated, as did many of the others, but a few were beginning to look speculative. 'But of course, it isn't the traditional way of the house elf, and many masters wouldn't be prepared to pay at all. They would think you were being greedy.'

'Dobby does not want any master beside Dumbledore.'

'Isn't that lucky,' Draco said dryly. He held his torn robes out. 'Can you fix these for me?'

Dobby's eyes narrowed as he took them. 'How much?'

Draco sighed. 'I'm not paying you just for this.' Dobby's lip curled, but Draco held up his hand before the house elf could say anything. 'I will _not_ pay just to have my robes mended. But I will give you some money if you agree to keep my room clean and do some oddjobs for me every now and again.'

Dobby's eyes brightened. 'How much?' he repeated.

'A Sickle each week.'

'Three,' the house elf immediately countered. 'Extra for oddjobs.'

Draco regarded him levelly. 'Two,' he said. 'Flat rate. And I'll buy you sweets and socks from Hogsmeade sometimes if you promise to keep this a secret.'

Dobby stared at him for a moment before extending a hand. Draco took it and they shook solemnly. 'Done.'

The other house elves were staring at them in sheer bewilderment. Obviously this was their first experience of haggling. Winky stepped forward. 'Please, sir, you mustn't need to pay for your room cleaning. We will do it for you.'

Draco turned to look at the rest of the elves gathered in the room. They had by now completely forgotten about what they were doing and were watching the three of them closely. He looked back at Dobby. _I can trust one better than all of them. And I know how to deal with him._

'Thank you. That's very generous of you. But I know Dobby and I would prefer if he did this for me.'

Winky's shoulders sagged, and Dobby looked strangely troubled. 'As sir wishes,' she said, and turned away. The rest of the elves gradually began to return to their various tasks. Draco's stomach growled loudly as he stood up, and Winky spun around.

'Master Malfoy is hungry!' she cried. 'Why didn't you say?'

She darted about the room, snatching a freshly-dried plate and heaping food on it, some of which still spat and hissed from the heat of the pans. She returned to Draco's side with such swiftness that he could have sworn she sent a breeze flying past him. Winky held the plate up, smiling humbly. 'We is here to serve the students, sir.'

Draco took the plate gratefully, knowing far better than to argue—it would only result in more food being piled on. 'Thank you.' He glanced down at Dobby. 'Come on. I'll show you where my room is.' The elf nodded and followed him out of the kitchens.

They walked through the corridors in silence for a while. Draco was certain Dobby had only agreed to help him because of the offer of money. They had thoroughly disliked each other when Dobby was still property of his father; Draco's delight at home had been to taunt him and invent ever-more cruel punishments for mild transgressions. Lucius had encouraged his creativity and strictness. His mother...

Draco swallowed and pushed those thoughts away. _Never mind them._

'Master Malfoy,' Dobby said quietly, breaking through Draco's thoughts. 'You is not a Prefect, so why does you have your own room?'

'I don't like to stay near the other Slytherins any more,' Draco said distantly. 'I found this room, and Dumbledore let me have it.'

'Dumbledore is a great man.'

Draco shrugged. 'That's what people say. I suppose he's all right.'

Dobby cast a sidelong look at him, taking in Draco's gaunt expression and the faraway look in his eyes. 'Why is Master Malfoy so sad?'

Draco stopped, his shoulders sagging. 'Why am I so transparent to everyone?'

'You is not clear at all,' Dobby told him. 'You is just sad. I do not remember seeing you like this ever.'

That said a lot. Dobby had been in his father's service even before Draco was born. Draco pulled himself together enough to turn into the Chimaera Hall. From there they located the right stairway and the tunnel opening halfway down. 'Dobby, has there ever been something that you wanted more than anything else, that you couldn't have?' _I must be mad, confiding in a house elf._

The elf nodded solemnly. 'For Dobby there were two things like that.'

'What were they?'

'Freedom,' Dobby said, staring at Draco with piercing saucer eyes. 'And—Winky.'

'Winky?'

'She always fights with Dobby, but no one else even talks to him—except Harry Potter and his Wheezy and Herm-own-ee. And Winky is pretty and good and—' In the gloom, Dobby rubbed his head ruefully. '—And Winky is a good aim, sir.'

'And a good catch, too?' Draco whispered.

'Dobby thinks so. Is that why Master Malfoy is sad? Do you want something not allowed?'

Draco grimaced. ' 'Not allowed' is a good way of putting it. Yes.'

'What does Master Malfoy want?'

Draco choked, stumbling a little as his foot struck an uneven stone. 'Harry...'

He heard Dobby suck in a breath beside him. 'Master Malfoy is wanting Harry...Harry Potter? As Dobby wants Winky?'

'Yes.'

There was a brief silence. Then: 'I was thinking...Dobby means...aren't humans like house elves, sir?' Dobby's tone was guarded, and Draco cursed himself for having opened his mouth at all. 'Boy-humans are usually wanting girl-humans, yes?'

'You lived with my father for how many years, Dobby? And you still expect me to be...to act like normal?'

'Dobby sees.' His voice was very quiet, and fraught with worry. Draco sighed.

'I don't think you do. Perhaps it was too much to hope...turn backwards here. It's a trick wall.'

Dobby did so, and they entered the room together. Soft blue flames sprang from the fireplace, painting the stone walls round about with flickering light. The flames ran out in a day, but they were less complex spells than the light orb and didn't cast such permanent, stark light. 

Draco placed the plate on top of the cabinet as Dobby looked around with an assessing gleam in his eye. 'Who was in this place before?'

'It's been empty for a long time,' Draco replied, opening the cabinet and rummaging through the contents. There was something he wanted... 'But the last person who stayed in here was called Tom Riddle.'

To his amazement, Dobby growled behind him. 'Dobby knows all about Tom Riddle. Evil man!'

'I know,' Draco said. His hand finally closed around what he was looking for, and he pulled it out. In his grasp was a small, red-leather bound book. Draco smiled a little, flicking through the pages. It was a book of spells—his very first grimoire, given to him by his mother when he was five years old, barely old enough to read the words inside. He could still remember sitting on her knee and watching her finger trace along the type as she read the incantations for him. Sometimes she would even cast the spells, most of which were harmless little charms, and he learned from her, little by little.

Lucius had been pleased by his aptitude for magic, and soon afterward he began to coach Draco in...other things...

The book snapped closed. Most of them were simple charms, but there was one spell towards the back that his mother had never cast, and now Draco knew why.

_He probably won't appreciate it, but..._

'Dobby?'

'Yes, sir?'

'Could you give this to Harry tomorrow? Please?' He held the book out, awaiting the house elf's response. Dobby took it gravely. 'And please don't tell him who it's from.' Draco had never been so civil toward a house elf, much less Dobby himself, and apparently it struck a chord.

'Free of charge.' 

Draco almost laughed. Dobby flicked the torn robes over his shoulder and shuffled back towards the entrance. He turned back at the wall. 'Dobby does understand, Master Malfoy,' he said earnestly. 'And Dobby is sorry.'

He disappeared before Draco could formulate a reply.

~~~*~~~

_Draco,_

What have you been doing the past week, blowing bubbles? The attack was a fiasco, we were driven back by a couple of dogs! At the end of it only ten Muggles and three Mudbloods were killed. No ordinary dog could stop a gathering of Death Eaters. Plainly this was some scheme dreamed up by Dumbledore and his cronies, and no one heard a word_ from you or your friends at Hogwarts to warn us!_

Another minor detail that you failed to warn us about: Dumbledore's henchmen launched an attack on Azkaban at precisely the same time. Wraiths were sent after our agents and actually succeeded in driving most of them away from the place. The timing is far too exact for the attack to be a coincidence.

Lord is furious, and you will wear the punishment for this breach of trust. There will be another meeting in Hogsmeade in two weeks, same time as before. You had better pray that the Dark Lord's wrath has abated by that time.

May the Dark Lord's final ascendance be great.

Be a man. Be a Malfoy.

Lucius.

Draco threw the letter on the desk and kicked the wall. _'Only ten Muggles and three Mudbloods killed'...only thirteen!_ 'How many were you hoping for, Father? A few hundred?'

He wrenched the top drawer open and took out a sheet of parchment. He picked up a quill and stabbed it into an open inkpot. The quill flickered madly over the page. Draco spoke under his breath as he wrote:

'Father—' His voice was a sarcastic snarl. 'I am well aware of my task here and I have been watching the Boy as instructed. He has shown no sign of knowing the Dark Lord's plan, and nor has Dumbledore. Hasn't it occurred to you that two dogs may just be two dogs?

'For all that you have washed your hands of me you insist on retaining the right to badger and insult me. I have done all that I am asked, and you cannot expect more. If I wear any punishment, it will be baseless.

'And I will be my_self_, not your puppet and not a doll carved in your image.

'Tell Mother I miss her. By the way, Merry Christmas, Father.

'Draco.'

Draco stopped and drew a breath. His hand was aching from the force with which he had driven the nib against the parchment. His eye ran over the words and he slumped into the chair. It was too reckless, gave too much of himself away. Another piece of parchment was removed from the drawer and he began to write again, re-wording and cutting sentences carefully. Draco cast his eye over it again, and wrote the letter one last time before deciding it was safe to send. He blew lightly on the wet ink to dry it and rolled the note, depositing it in his pocket.

The letter had been dropped to him by his father's owl during breakfast that morning. He'd had a good idea what it was about, but hadn't dared open it until he was in his room, and now he was glad he had waited. Draco sincerely doubted that he could have stifled his rage even in front of Berald and Harper.

He took the note to the Owlery before he decided against sending it at all. He stopped in the doorway when he saw that Harper was there as well, a snowy owl perched on his arm.

'You might as well come all the way,' Harper said, echoing their first meeting as he turned to regard Draco. His owl hooted softly.

Draco stepped inside, moving quickly to his own eagle owl. 'What are you doing here?'

Harper tapped a thin roll of paper attached almost imperceptibly to the white bird's leg. 'Writing to a friend. You?'

'Writing to my father.' Draco tied the note to his owl's leg. It stepped onto his arm, expecting to be carried to the door before it flew off.

'Not a friend, then.'

Draco glanced around sharply, but the boy was patting his bird's back and didn't say anything further to explain himself. 'Do you always set out to be so enigmatic?'

Kieran's eyebrows rose. 'I always make perfect sense to myself.' He shrugged. 'I suppose that's all I need to do, really.'

Draco shrugged his owl off his arm and with a sweep of its magnificent wings it flew off. Harper clucked his tongue and the snowy owl rose gracefully into the air, speeding past Draco.

'What happened? Did it work?' Kieran was clearly asking about the attack.

Draco forced his voice to be neutral. 'They killed thirteen people, but it was stopped by a couple of mad dogs running around, upsetting things. They didn't get to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.'

Kieran's brow rose further. 'A gathering of Death Eaters defeated by a couple of stray dogs? Perhaps I should change sides.'

Draco stared at him. 'Don't say things like that near me. Do you have any idea what Voldemort could do to you if he found you out?'

'Had a taste of it yourself?' Harper said softly. Draco looked away, cursing himself. How did this boy manage to twist his words so easily? 

Kieran spoke up again after a few seconds' silence. 'I can look after myself, Draco.'

'What makes you think I won't betray you?'

Kieran stepped forward suddenly, his intense gaze searching Draco's eyes. Draco edged back, instinctively nervous of him, but Kieran's hands whipped out and caught about his wrists. He pulled Draco close, still staring. Draco wondered what he was looking for.

Kieran's mouth twitched at the edges. 'No, I don't think you'd betray me, Draco.' He leaned forward, his mouth brushing against Draco's ear as he whispered, 'I won't betray you, either.'

Draco closed his eyes, realising that the pads of Kieran's thumbs were moving in soothing circles over the tender skin of his wrists, pressing gently against the scars left by his suicide attempt. He shuddered violently, partly from the unfamiliar pleasure of having someone so close to him, purely because they wanted to be near him. Mostly, though, he was afraid of Kieran—of his ambiguity—of what he could do to Draco, now, or at the next Death Eater meeting. 'Let go of me.'

Kieran did so, and Draco cautiously opened his eyes. Harper was still staring at him, but the sharp edge on the gaze had faded.

'They're in the Library.'

Kieran swept out of the room.

Draco lifted his hands slowly, his fingers ghosting over the scars where Kieran had touched him. That had felt so…wonderful.

'_I don't think you'll betray me...I won't betray you.' What the hell do you mean, Harper? What do you know?_

He became aware of the owls staring down at him, rustling wings and hooting to each other from the perches. There were only a few in comparison to the crowded population that usually crowded Hogwarts, but their concentrated regard was still unnerving. He shuffled out of the room and made for the Library, determined to understand at least part of what Kieran had said to him.

~~~*~~~

Madam Pince glanced around suspiciously at Draco's entrance, but forbore to comment on his unwelcome presence. A kind of silent feud had grown between Draco and the librarian since he tried—and failed—to take a book on the Dark Arts from the Restricted Section in second year.

Draco drifted among the rows of shelves, searching for some sign of life other than the rustle of restless pages in the Restricted Section. He heard them before he saw them, hushed voices murmuring to each other. Emerging from a stack of A-Z Potions grimoires, he saw three figures seated around a table and hesitated. Of course it would be them. Who else would Harper have been talking about?

Ron spotted him first as Draco dithered between leaving and staying to watch. Distrust clouded his expression. 'What are you doing here, Malfoy?'

Draco's gaze wandered over the three of them. Ron and Hermione were sitting side by side facing him, opposite to Harry, who had his head in his hands. Hermione had been leaning forward and talking quietly to Harry, but looked up at Ron's question. Harry didn't move.

There was a letter and a clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ in front of them.

'What happened?' Draco asked. 'What's wrong?'

'Thirteen people are dead,' Ron said coldly. 'Though I suppose that doesn't worry you.'

Draco didn't respond to the Weasel's jab; he was focused on Harry. He slid into a chair beside the boy, eyes not leaving his face. 'Are you going to be all right?'

Harry finally turned to look at Draco. His face was much paler than usual, and his eyes—he hadn't been crying but his eyes looked so weary, so very defeated.

'Is it Black?' Draco said hoarsely. 'Did he—did they get away all right? My father's letter didn't say.'

Harry nodded once, and turned away again. Draco clenched his hands to keep himself from touching him. 'Then what's so wrong?'

He heard Harry sigh, and then his voice, as tired as his eyes. 'What Ron said. Thirteen people were killed—thirteen! And we couldn't do anything to stop it—'

'It could have been a lot worse,' Draco said softly. 'The Death Eaters were counting on far more than that...'

'The dream was right. I should know better by now...'

Draco froze. 'You dreamed of this? You had a premonition?'

When Harry didn't answer, Hermione spoke up for him, watching Draco carefully. 'It's something to do with his scar, but we're not sure what. It...almost acts like a warning, when Voldemort's going to do something...'

Draco stared from Hermione to Harry in growing horror. 'That's what—in Divination last year, that's why—?'

Harry nodded, not bothering to look up. Draco's fists clenched until he felt flesh puncture under the pressure of his nails. 'If I'd known that, I'd never have teased you the way I did.'

Ron snorted something derisive, and Draco looked around sharply. 'I wouldn't have,' he said. 'I know as well as you do what that means.'

'I should have thought it would only make you laugh harder,' Ron retorted.

'You're wrong—no, _Weasel_, I mean it. I wasn't that bad, even then.' _Was I?_

Ron looked ready to start a fight, but Granger tapped his shoulder lightly and placated him with a small shake of her head. 

Draco stood up. 'I really wouldn't have.' He looked again at Harry's silent form. 'Harry—' _Gods, how easy it would be just to reach out and stroke that beautiful dark hair, to whisper comfort in his ear..._ 'I'm sorry.'

It was just a whisper, and Harry did nothing to show he'd heard, but Draco could almost smell the hatred emanating from Ron. He walked away.


	8. A Hidden Fire

****

Warnings: This is not for anyone under 15 years, unless you have an amazing level of maturity. The chapter contains slash, het, and coarse language. If you can't cope with any of that, follow the illustrious knights of Monty Python's table and run away.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:Katarina, VoodooDaisuke, Demeter, Shattered Reality, crys clouse, Canarde, Karina, Jessica (I always loved the centaurs (must be a carry-over from my Narnia days), and thought that their cameo in the first book must pan out into something more later on. I'm glad you like Kieran; so do I. He has a mind of his own. Good or evil? Hard to tell. Take a shot somewhere in between and you just about have him, I think. Glad you liked Dobby as well. I was dancing around in rapture when I first read your review because you know Loreena McKennit too! Ah, rarity!), Sorceress Jade, SailorChibi, suzakunoaijin, Myr (They'll work something out. *Sighs* Eventually.), Ephemera (*Impersonates the Cheshire Cat's smile* All seven in one go? Now _I'm_ impressed. Draco has so many friends he doesn't know about. It's a real pity. Snape is amazingly easy to write for some reason. Knew there was a reason I liked him so much. ^.^), twilights death, Kcarke (I think when I've finished this story I'm going to have to go back through and pull out all the symbols and motifs I'm finding. There's a new one every time I turn around, and Draco being shut out is one of them. Gerald irritates me as well; I don't intend to fill him out much. The contrary will be true of Harper. Gay? No. In his own words, he's "something else". Which in any other context would seem terribly conceited and so very like him. Dobby is becoming something of an unexpected ally for Draco. Ron's hatred is going to get sorely tried in the next couple of chapters…), Mist Walker, Wednesday, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Wednesday, SoulSister, electricbluecat, Britt, sm (*Laughs* You'd be getting wages if I knew who you were, where you were, and how to get the money…), Dragoncliffer (Ron will be getting a sharp boot up the backside in the chapters to come. Of course, being Ron, he'll probably boot back.), S. Maldiva (Yes, more twists. It seems I can't write in a straight line.), Piri Malfoy.

Thanks also to Apocalypse for beta-reading this chapter, and to Blaze, who was kind enough to edit the first six chapters for me.

****

All Torn Down: A Hidden Fire

An emerald is as green as grass,

A ruby red as blood;

A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;

A flint lies in the mud.

A diamond is a brilliant stone,

To catch the world's desire,

An opal holds a fiery spark,

But a flint holds fire.

—_Precious Stones_, Christina Georgina Rossetti

When term began, the castle was awash with rumours and gossip about the failed attack. At first the Ministry had tried to cover it up as a Muggle terrorist attack, but that fell apart when some keen young editor began publishing photographs of masked Death Eaters in the _Daily Prophet_.

The Ministry conceded that Death Eaters had been involved, but still likened the attack to the incident at the Quidditch World Cup the previous year. It maintained that the Death Eaters had acted alone, and that Voldemort, despite rumour, hadn't risen again.

At least, this is what the Ministry of Magic said. Only Cornelius Fudge was truly emphatic about it. The other Ministers usually shook their heads or rolled their eyes when asked to comment.

'Mum reckons old Fudge must have gone nuts,' Seamus said one Potions lesson, although not too loudly. It was a mildly dangerous potion they were concocting and Snape would kill them if he thought they weren't paying proper attention—_if_ they didn't get themselves killed beforehand, as he'd sneered at the beginning of the lesson.

'Reckon she's right,' Ron muttered, bending over his cauldron so that Snape couldn't see his mouth moving. He spluttered and jerked back as fumes rose up his nose. 'God, this stuff stinks! Dad's livid. He keeps saying that we should be trying to put up a proper front against You-Know-Who, not sticking our heads in the sand every time something bad happens.'

'We are trying,' Harry noted as the others nodded their approval. No one heard him.

'They should be doing something about it anyway,' Dean said. 'Even if Voldemort wasn't back, the Death Eaters are dangerous enough on their own. Thirteen people, _dead_! Just like that! Hermione, could you pass me the dried frog skins, please?'

Hermione did so without looking up from her cauldron. She and Draco were probably the only two people in the class really concentrating on their potions.

'My Gran is getting really worried,' Neville said, about to sprinkle pixie dust over his concoction. Hermione's hand shot out and pushed his away.

'Add the toad's eyeballs first and then take it off the heat,' she said. Neville flushed.

'Thanks, Hermione.'

'You're welcome.'

'Gran's talking about pulling me out of school. She doesn't want me getting involved in anything dangerous.'

Ron dropped his stirring rod into the potion. 'She can't do that!'

'Mr Weasley, five points from Gryffindor for talking and another five for not paying attention to what you're doing! Get that rod out of there now!'

Seamus gaped as Harry and Hermione tried to help Ron fish his sinking implement out of the cauldron. 'Five points for talking! That's like being punished for breathing, that is.'

'Another five points from Gryffindor courtesy of Mr Finnegan!'

'Not in the best mood today, is he?' Hermione remarked. The boys glared enviously at the expanse of bushy hair that shielded her face from Snape.

They waited until Snape's attention was occupied by a minor accident across the room before they took up the conversation again.

'Your Gran can't be serious,' Ron hissed at Neville. The other boy shrugged, but he was beginning to tremble.

'I think she is.'

'She can't,' Hermione muttered. 'We've got our O.W.L.s this year.'

Dirty looks were thrown her way. 

'Thanks, Hermione,' Dean said. 'I spent months trying to forget about that little detail.'

'The thing is,' Neville bit his lip. 'I don't want to leave, even if it is dangerous. And if it comes to open war...I want to be able to do something. I don't want everything to happen like—like last time.'

Harry glanced at him sympathetically. He could tell Neville was thinking about his parents. There was a set determination in his eyes Harry hadn't seen before, almost imperceptible amidst the worry and fear. 

Harry looked back at his potion, thinking. Perhaps he should talk to Dumbledore about Neville. If he was so set on doing something, the first step would be for him to join the Order of the Phoenix. At the very least, Dumbledore could dissuade Neville's grandmother from taking him out of school.

'Stir much slower and it'll congeal, Harry,' Hermione interrupted his thoughts. He glanced down at the potion, already beginning to stick to his rod, and swirled it faster.

He glanced sidelong at Draco, standing across the room. The boy's fringe obscured his eyes from view as he stirred his potion. Harry could see just the hint of a smile when Draco half-turned, taking the cauldron from the heat of the fire, and scattered pixie dust over it. The brew shone briefly, then settled. Draco looked around the room for Snape. 'Done, sir.'

'Well done, Draco. Ten points to Slytherin...'

Hermione kicked Harry in the ankle. 'Try to keep your eyes on your work, Harry. It'll make a nice fire in a minute, but Snape won't be too happy about it.'

Harry hastily pulled his cauldron away from the fire and threw his own sachet of pixie dust into the potion, willing it not to be too late. He breathed a sigh of relief as a glow rose over the surface and then settled back to a mossy sheen. He glanced up at Snape. 'Done, Professor.'

Snape strolled over to inspect his work. An eyebrow rose. 'Well done, Potter. Now if only you'd had results like that in your last test.' He cast a disparaging glance at Hermione. 'Or perhaps it was due to your gracious friend's help.'

Hermione glared levelly at him until Snape's cold eyes rested again on Harry's face. 'Five points from Gryffindor for collusion. This is supposed to be your own work.'

'That's rubbish!' Ron exploded. 'You can't—'

'Three points from Gryffindor for sticking your nose in where it's neither needed or wanted, Mr Weasley, and a further three for doubting a teacher's judgement.' Snape slunk away, earning glares from Gryffindors around the room, the most potent of which were grouped near Harry.

'Overbearing git,' Seamus breathed. 'I'd just love to get my hands around that neck late one night...'

'Ssh,' Hermione warned. 'He'll be taking points off you for death threats next!'

' 'Doubting a teacher's judgment', indeed!' Ron snarled, wresting his cauldron from the heat and pitching the dust into it. Hermione winced at the potion's savage treatment, but the correct reaction took place. 'I don't doubt his judgment at all; it's just always bad!'

Harry shrugged silently and began to bottle the potion. He knew why Snape was being so malicious.

He glanced back at Draco, who in turn was staring bemusedly at the Potions Master. He'd already filled three bottles and his gloved hands were smeared with green stains.

Well, Snape had no right to be enraged any more. He _was_ trying now—admittedly for the first time—to understand what it was Draco felt, and what he felt about it in turn.

Draco turned to fill his fourth bottle, fringe falling again into his eyes. He flicked it out of the way, leaving a green ting in his hair. Harry smiled.

He just wasn't sure.

~~~*~~~

Harry waited until the night to look for Dumbledore. The rest of the House was gathered in the common room: studying, talking or, in Ron's case, reading. Harry wove his way through the crowd towards the portal.

'Where are you going, Harry?'

Belatedly, he tried not to look too conspicuous as he turned to face Hermione. 'Just out for a bit.'

'Good. I'll come with you.'

Harry shook his head, waving a hand. 'No, it's fine, I just—'

'Don't be ridiculous.' She picked up a form from beside her Arithmancy notes. 'I need to go to the Owlery anyway. It's about time I renewed my subscription to the _Daily Prophet_.'

'I'd rather—'

'I'm not going to get in your way, Harry.' Hermione smiled. 'I'll come with you as far as our paths overlap, and then I'll go to the Owlery and you can head wherever you want to go.'

Harry relaxed. 'Okay.'

'Coming?' This to Ron, who looked up from _Hogwarts_ distractedly.

'No thanks. I'm almost finished this chapter. You don't need me, do you?'

'Not at the moment, but maybe...later.' She kissed Ron briefly as a blush spread over his freckled face, and followed Harry out.

They walked in silence side by side for a way, occasionally passed by other students. When the corridor ahead of them was safely empty, Hermione twisted her head to look at Harry and said, 'What's got up Snape's nose?'

Harry started and shrugged, a little too late. 'How should I know?'

'He's not very happy with you.'

'You may not have noticed, Hermione, but Snape's always had it in for me.'

'He was getting better, though. After, you know...everything.'

Harry sighed. 'Before the holidays I went to talk to him about something. He...didn't like what I had to say very much. That's all. All right?'

'All right.'

Harry stared at her. 'You're not going to ask what I was talking to him about?'

'If you went to the curator of all things slimy before you came to Ron or me, it's probably not something I want to know about, right?'

Harry was about to answer when a figure in billowing black robes strode past them. Snape paced ahead of them, moving stiffly, and turned abruptly out of the passage. Horrified silence reigned.

'I'd better make sure he doesn't have any reason to give me detention for a while,' Hermione muttered finally.

'He never does anyway.'

'Yes, but I'd better _make sure_.' They looked at each other and erupted into ringing peals of laughter.

'The way he just walked away, not a word—!'

'Like he was really offended—'

'Wonder if he'll go find McGonagall to kiss it all better?'

'Ron will be so sorry he missed this!'

They were still struggling down the corridor, trying to regain composure, when Harry bumped into someone rounding a corner.

'Sorry,' he gasped, trying to bite back his chuckles. 

They evaporated as he met Professor McGonagall's stern eye. Beside him, Hermione had likewise gone silent.

'It's quite all right, Potter,' McGonagall said. 'What are the two of you doing wandering around the castle so late?'

Hermione held up the subscription form. 'I need to send this tonight. See you, Harry.' She disappeared in the general direction of the Owlery.

'What about you, Potter?' McGonagall arched a brow.

'I was looking for Professor Dumbledore. Do you know where he is, Professor?'

She shook her head. 'It's too late to be bothering the Headmaster anyway. Is it something you can talk to me about?'

Harry thought about it a second, then nodded. 'It's about Neville—Neville Longbottom.'

McGonagall's brow rose further. 'Indeed. Come with me.'

Harry followed her to her office. She waved him to a seat as she closed the door and turned, pursing her lips. 'What's this about, then?'

'It's—his Gran, she wants to pull him out of the school, I think—' He paused, watching McGonagall move to her desk and retrieve a letter from the top drawer.

'I know that already, Potter.' She handed the letter to him. It was a request from Neville's grandmother for the discontinuation of his enrolment. It didn't say why.

Harry put the message down carefully. 'He said she's afraid of what might happen to him, especially after the attack on the Underground. But he's as safe here as anywhere else, isn't he? We all are.'

McGonagall sighed. 'Neville's grandmother obviously believes otherwise.' She placed the letter back in the drawer and began to shuffle papers around in a false display of activity. 'I can't refuse her request, however much I would like to. But thank you for your concern nonetheless.'

'He doesn't want to go,' Harry mumbled.

McGonagall paused. 'What was that, Potter?'

'Neville doesn't want to go. He said he didn't care about the danger, he didn't want to leave.'

The professor sat down. 'Has he told his grandmother this?'

'I don't think so, no.'

McGonagall leaned back in her chair, watching him pensively. 'But he really doesn't want to leave?'

'No.'

She stared at the ceiling, then at the desk. Finally she said, 'I'll hold the letter as long as possible. Tell her I lost it...'

Harry goggled. 'What are you talking about?'

'You need to get Neville to tell his grandmother how he feels. We can't keep him at Hogwarts ourselves, but if Longbottom makes it clear that he doesn't want to go, she may relent. He has to do it himself.'

Harry shifted. 'Neville isn't...'

'...The most confident of people? I know. But he's the only one who even has the right to argue with her wishes.'

'I understand.' There was a pause. 'Professor, if he does convince her to let him stay...'

'Yes, Potter?'

'Do you think he could be brought into the Order?' He caught the look in McGonagall's eye and hurried on. 'It's just—in Potions, he was really determined to—he really doesn't want to let things go they way they did last time, Professor. Even now, he doesn't want to be just on the side, watching everything happen around him. Even now.'

McGonagall stood. 'Wait until it's certain he can stay, Harry. Then we'll see.'

He nodded. 'Thank you.'

'You had better go now. It's curfew soon.'

Hermione was already back inside the common room when Harry entered, sitting beside Ron and chuckling at one of his jokes--she'd finally convinced him to put _Hogwarts: A History_ down for the night. He sat down with them.

'Well?' Hermione said.

'Well what?'

'Did McGonagall let you go?'

'She...we talked.'

The other two exchanged a glance. 'How did it go?' Ron pressed.

'Um...yeah. All right.' Harry was still struggling to understand the fact of McGonagall's willingness to be so _underhanded_ to keep a student at school.

And it all hung on Neville.

'Where's Neville?' he said, suddenly, looking around.

'He and Ginny went out a while ago,' Ron said. He frowned. 'He said something about helping her with Transfigurations.'

'_Neville_ helping her with transfiguration?'

'That's what I thought.'

Harry stood. 'I've got to find them.'

Hermione caught at his sleeve, but he shook her off. 'Don't bother. It's bedtime soon; they'll be back.'

'No, I need to talk to him now.' He hurried out again before they could argue.

Harry paced quickly through the passages; he did want to get back before curfew if he could. This couldn't, it wouldn't wait, though. Who knew how long it would take Neville to get up the courage to face his grandmother?

Harry's brows knotted together. _Why_ would Neville be helping Ginny with Transfiguration work? That was his worst subject, next to Potions...

Harry paused at the door to the Transfiguration classroom. He twisted the handle and the door swung inward noiselessly. Harry stepped into the room. His jaw dropped.

They had been doing transfiguration work. That was obvious; three glasses were in various stages of becoming spoons, none of them actually having made it. That activity had apparently been abandoned a long while ago, however.

Neville and Ginny stood in the middle of the room. The older boy's arms were folded around Ginny, his hands stroking her back as he kissed her. Ginny leaned into him, her hands cupping his face. She sighed softly. Neither of them had heard Harry enter the room.

Harry felt a blush storm over his face, disappearing into the roots of his hair. 

_Get out of here, fast!_

His legs whirled him about and he fled back through the door, unaware of its slam behind him as he leaned against the wall, gasping through waves of panic. He'd only begun to compose himself when Neville slipped out of the room, looking flushed and even more nervous than usual.

'H-Harry?' the boy's eyes widened in concern as he looked closer at Harry's face. 'Are you all right?'

'Fine,' Harry stammered. 'Absolutely...fine.'

'I-I'm sorry,' Neville mumbled. 'I know you weren't expecting to see that, but we—we didn't think anyone would come to the room at this time of night, and we really were working on Transfigurations—I mean, I...we didn't set out to—and we were going to tell Ron and you and the others sooner or later, and—'

Harry held up a hand. 'Neville, stop. It's okay. I just—' he tried to laugh it off. 'Just got a bit of a shock, that's all.'

'Really?' The other boy brightened. 'You're not angry?'

'Why would I be angry? I think Ron's the one you should be worrying about.'

'Oh. Yeah, I suppose you're right. It's just that, you know, I thought—because Ginny talks about you all the time, and she swears it's all right, but sometimes I just feel like—'

'What are you talking about?'

'Ginny. She's, er, she liked you since she first saw you. She says it's nothing now, and you never noticed anyway, but I thought, after seeing...' His voice trailed off uncertainly.

'Oh.' Harry tried to think of something else to say. 'Um.'

'Yeah.' Neville scuffed one foot along the floor sheepishly. 'So...so it's all right?'

Harry nodded. 'Yes. It's fine by me.'

'Okay.' Neville sounded relieved. There was a short silence; the two of them lost in their own thoughts. 'So then why did you—'

'Neville, I wanted to—'

They paused and grinned sheepishly. 'You go,' Neville said.

'Do you know how serious your Gran is about pulling you out of school?'

'Pretty serious, I think.'

'Did you know she'd sent a letter to McGonagall?'

Neville gaped. 'No, I didn't! She—she really did that? How do you know?'

'I went to talk to Professor McGonagall just before. I saw it then.'

'Damn!' Neville's fist slammed against the wall. Harry jumped; Neville yelped with the pain. 'I don't _want_ to go! I want to stay here, I don't care if it's dangerous!'

'I know,' Harry said, too softly. He'd never seen Neville so angry before.

'I want to stay with Ginny and I want to _help_! I won't be the little coward who crawls under a rock at the first sign of trouble, not any more!'

'Have you actually told her any of this?'

Neville slumped. 'No, of course not.'

'Do you think she might understand, if you did?'

The other boy threw him a reproachful look. 'Have you ever tried to reason with a woman who wears a dead bird on her hat?'

Harry began to laugh; he couldn't help it. Neville looked offended at first, but slowly began to chuckle as well. Ginny poked her head around the door, eyeing them both cautiously. 'What was that about?'

'Gran's written a letter to Professor McGonagall,' Neville said.

Ginny stiffened, her eyes focusing entirely on him. 'What are you going to do?'

Neville kicked at the floor. 'I don't know.'

'Neville...'

'I know, I know. I have to stand up to her. I know.' He bit his lip.

'Write to her,' Harry suggested. 'Just...just let her know how you feel.'

'Yeah. I-I'll try.' Ginny moved to take his hand, and they smiled at each other. 'I'll try.'

'Curfew's soon,' she said. 'We'd better get back to the common room before Filch finds us.'

They began to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, Neville's arm settling comfortably around Ginny's shoulder. Harry felt a pang of obscure jealousy.

'I suppose now I know what Percy felt like,' Ginny said, breaking the silence.

Harry laughed. 'Yeah. It must be a Weasley tradition: get caught snogging with your first boyfriend.'

'Or girlfriend,' Ginny added, looking thoughtful. 'You know, I think you might be right. I know Bill caught Charlie—'

'Fred and George saw Ron and Hermione kissing.'

'And they caught each other, too,' she giggled. 'Percy almost knocked Bill flat when he found him kissing that Ravenclaw, what was her name...?'

Harry cocked his head. 'Percy was that mad?'

'No, but he was in a hurry. Went around a corner and—smack!—ran straight into them. There were an awful lot of red faces over that. Cardinal gyves.'

The Fat Lady nodded and swung forward to admit them into the room. Most of the others had already retreated into the dormitories for the night. The boys bade Ginny good night and followed suit.

Harry lay awake well after the other boys had fallen asleep. He didn't understand why he had reacted so violently to seeing Neville kiss Ginny. After all, that was it, wasn't it? Just a harmless little kiss? Nothing to panic over.

He looked over at Neville. The boy was curled up tight on his bed, a contented half-smile softening his features. What _might_ be worth panicking about was the fact that, just briefly, Harry had imagined what it would be like for Draco to hold him like that.

And Harry was uneasily aware that Neville, the most nervous, shy boy in the year, was more comfortable with Ginny than Harry was around any girl, with the sole exception of Hermione.

'Doesn't mean anything,' Harry muttered. He rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut.

~~~*~~~

The scratching of pen on paper and a muttered curse woke Harry the next morning. He pushed the curtains around his bed aside, yawning. 'Neville?'

'Good morning,' came the sour response. Harry heard a growl, and the sound of paper crumpling. He crossed the room and poked his head through the drapes surrounding Neville's bed.

'What are you doing?'

'Trying to write to my Gran.' Neville was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, a board balanced across his knees as he scribbled madly on a fresh piece of parchment torn from the roll beside him.

Harry sat on the bed slowly, so as not to disturb the inkpot already wobbling dangerously on the corner of the board, in counterpoint to Neville's jabbing motions with the quill. 'Having trouble?'

'I've been awake for hours and still haven't got it right.' With a sigh, Neville laid his quill down, stretched, and scrunched up the latest piece of parchment. It joined a growing pile of discarded sheets at the foot of the bed. 'I just can't get the words to come out right.'

Harry glanced at the discard pile. 'Do you mind if I...?'

Neville shrugged, tearing off a new sheet. 'Go ahead, but there's nothing worth reading there.'

Harry selected a crumpled ball at random and folded it out:

_Dear Gran,_

_I've heard that you sent a letter to the school asking to withdraw my enrolment. Why didn't you tell me?_

I don't want to leave school. I know you think it's dangerous, but I—

There were a few words more, indecipherable through the maddened, inky slashes Neville had made across them before throwing the letter away. Harry put the unfinished note aside and picked up another one.

_Gran:_

I've heard that you sent a letter to pull me out of school. I don't want to go; I know you're worried but no one else is leaving and I don't want to be the first one to run away. So I want you to take it back.

All my friends are here at Hogwarts and I don't want to leave them. I have a girlfriend now—did you know that? Ginny Weasley—I took her to the Yule Ball last year, remember? She's a year younger than I am, but she's beautiful and funny and wonderful and—

'I don't see what's wrong with either of these,' Harry said, holding the pieces of paper up. Neville glanced at them.

'That one's too whiny,' he said, pointing at the first. 'It makes me sound like a spoilt little boy, and if she thinks that she'll only bring me home all the faster. The other one—' His eye ran over the words, and he grimaced. 'It started out too blunt and then became a love letter. Not good.'

'They both get your message across.'

'Yes, but not well enough.' The latest sheet joined the pile.

'Just tell her what you've told me.'

'Mm.' Neville tapped the end of the quill against his mouth for a second before setting it again against parchment. 

'Gran,' he murmured under his breath. 'I've heard that you sent a letter asking to cancel my enrolment at school, and all I can think is—can't we talk about this? I didn't realise you were being so serious last holidays.

'I have friends here, Gran. A girlfriend now, too—Ginny Weasley, remember, I took her to the Yule Ball last year?—I'd better leave that right there or I'll go all sappy again—'

Harry chuckled, and Neville flashed a small, awkward smile. 'The point is, I don't want to leave them.

'You've already told me how dangerous staying here is, and I understand why you're worried about me. But I don't want to be the first to run away, like usual. I don't want to run away at all. There, I said it.

'He Who Must Not Be Named is back, and it's going to be dangerous everywhere. He's going to try to make everything happen the way it did last time. I keep thinking about Mum and Dad and what happened to them—it'll be worse if He has His way this time. I can't do anything about it, though, if I'm hiding under your wing.

And I do want to do something, Gran. I don't know how, but if I stay here at Hogwarts, I'll find some way to help Professor Dumbledore.'

'That's something I didn't tell you last night,' Harry murmured. Neville looked up, curious. 'Dumbledore's heading a resistance group, called the Order of the Phoenix.'

The other boy sat back, squinting. 'I think I've heard of that somewhere before. It was something Mum and Dad were involved in, before they—' He broke off, flushing. 'Never mind.'

'I know,' Harry said. Neville started.

'W-what? How—?'

'Professor Dumbledore told me last year. He explained why you were so afraid of the Cruciatus Curse.'

'I see.' Neville gulped. 'I—I see.' He picked up the quill again, and spoke as he wrote, more quietly now. 'Finally, I have my O.W.L.s to pass this year. We don't know how long this upheaval will last, but at the end of it, I'm still going to need to know how to be a proper wizard. We all know I'm almost a Squib; I don't want to be seen as anything poorer than that.

'So. I don't want to leave school. In fact it's more than that, Gran, I won't leave Hogwarts. There's too much that I can do here, and who's to say it'll be any safer anywhere else? I want you to withdraw that request and let me work out what I can do. Believe me, I'll run if I have to,' he added, with an irony that surprised Harry. 'All my love...' Neville signed his name at the bottom of the parchment and ran his eyes over what he had written. He gave a satisfied nod. 'That's more like it.'

He capped the inkpot and began to pack the mess he had made away. 'I'll send it before breakfast,' he said, not looking up at Harry.

'Neville, I—I'm sorry. About what happened to your parents.'

The other boy gave a listless shrug. 'Life goes on.'

'I'm still sorry.'

Slowly, Neville looked up at him. 'Thank you.'

'Do you think—if your Gran lets you stay—'

'She will.' Neville's voice was flat.

'Would you consider joining the Order of the Phoenix?'

Neville pursed his lips. 'You weren't supposed to tell me about that, were you?'

Harry flushed. 'Not really, no. But you seemed so earnest about helping...'

'I understand. And to tell you the truth, I'd like nothing better.'

'Really?'

Neville grinned. 'Is there anything really disturbing I should know about?'

Harry frowned, then raised his eyebrows. 'Quite a lot, actually. I never really thought about it.'

'Then you'd better tell me now. I'm a nervous person; I don't want to die of fright as soon as I'm a part of it. And Harry—is my becoming a part of this Order certain? '

'No, it isn't.'

'So you had a _good_ reason not to tell me.' He grinned at Harry's stricken expression. 'Don't worry. I won't breathe a word.'

'When did you get so confident?'

'When I realised you could blush as much as the rest of us. I'll still lose my wits when I'm around Snape.'

'He's in the Order. Most of the teachers are.'

Neville groaned. 'Wonderful. What else?'

'There's—' Harry stiffened and cast a wary glance over his shoulder at the sound of someone else stirring in bed. 'Perhaps we should go down to the common room to talk about this.'

Neville nodded and, taking his letter, followed Harry down the stairs. The common room was almost empty; a few first years were huddling wide-eyed near the fire, whispering and giggling to each other. Ignoring the cold, Harry and Neville took seats at the back of the room.

'There are a lot of people I don't know—some of them look like they're from abroad, even. There are some council-men and there's a group—' Harry thought back to the last meeting and the exchange of nasty smiles between Snape and the other, unknown spokesperson— 'who I think must have something to do with Azkaban, because they handled the counter-attack over there.'

'The counter attack? You mean when all those wraiths dropped onto the island and the Dementors went crazy? No one in the Ministry got to the bottom of that.'

'No, Fudge didn't get to the bottom of it. Most of the others would have known what was happening, one way or the other. Remus Lupin is there as well.'

'Really?' Neville brightened. 'I liked him.'

Harry nodded. 'He was a good teacher. You...heard Snape's announcement at the end of the year?' He bit his lip and awaited the reaction.

'Yes, but I thought he was just trying to stir up trouble. Wasn't he?'

'No. Professor Lupin is a werewolf.'

Neville's mouth dropped open, and some of the usual fear returned in his eyes. 'Is he dangerous?' he whispered.

'It depends. He usually drinks a potion each month that renders him harmless when he's transformed. He drank it the whole year when he was teaching here, and he never hurt a single person.'

'But otherwise...?'

'He can be as dangerous as any other werewolf, yes. But he'd never hurt a fly intentionally.'

'What else?'

'There's Sirius Black—'

Neville's head jerked back, his eyes wide. 'Th-the murderer?'

'Careful,' Harry warned. 'That's my godfather you're talking about.' Disbelief flashed across the other boy's features. 'I'm serious. He never committed those murders; he was framed. He's proven it to me but hasn't been cleared yet by the Ministry.'

'Dumbledore trusts all these people?'

'They wouldn't be there if he didn't.'

'I suppose so.' Neville still looked worried. 'Is there anyone else?'

Harry nodded. 'The younger ones—Ron, Hermione, and me. And there's Draco Malfoy.'

'Malfoy?'

'Yes.'

'_Malfoy_?'

'Are you all right?'

Neville closed his eyes and said in a toneless voice, 'Guess whose father put my parents in St. Mungo's.'

Harry's breath rushed out of him. 'My God...I'm sorry, Neville, I really am. But—but Draco's not like him. Not at all. Not any more.'

'He put my legs in a binding curse in our first year.'

'A lot has happened since then. He's changed; he's grown up.' Harry's eyes widened as he registered what he'd just said, and his thoughts ran briefly to that night in the Transfiguration room: _'He wanted me to be a man...a true Malfoy.'_

'I don't think I can trust him, Harry.'

'If you can trust Sirius, you can trust Draco. It'll be all right, you have my word on it.'

Neville smiled wearily. 'If you say so.'

'I just did.' Harry smiled back at him.

'Do you want to play chess until the others come down?'

'Why not?'

The game went on for a good while, and Harry realised with very little surprise that he was on the losing side. His pieces realised it as well, and when he moved one there was general an outcry of protests and other suggestions, most of which were no better than the move he'd made.

Harry knitted his brow, glaring at the board. Neville had him in check, and he couldn't see any possible way out of it. What remained of his side stared at each other and at him helplessly.

'What if I—' he began, reaching out. The entire board cringed away from his hand, and he stopped. 'Oh, thanks a _lot. _What about—'

A hand darted in front of him and flickered across the board. Ron leaned down to survey his work, grinning. 'Checkmate.'

'Thanks,' Neville muttered. 'I was actually winning that one.'

'No problem.'

Neville stood up, holding his letter. 'See you at breakfast.'

'See you,' Harry said as he disappeared through the portal. Ron sat in the chair Neville had vacated, steepling his hands under his chin with an odd smile.

'Harry, why are you still in your pyjamas?'

Harry stared at him, then down at himself. He turned to glare at the first-years by the fire and they giggled. 

'I'll be back.' He shook a finger at Ron, whose smile was beginning to take up the rest of his face. 'Not a word.'

He fled the room to the tune of his best friend's laughter.

~~~*~~~

****

CONTROVERSY UNDER CORNELIUS

Following the mysterious events at the Muggle London Underground during December, controversies have surrounded the Head of the Ministry of Magic. Was He Who Must Not Be Named really involved, or are the Ministry's claims that past Death Eaters acted independently true? Who let the dogs out? And who will take the fall at the end of the day?

The Ministry's official stance remains non-committal and hasn't changed from the original statement released December 27th. However, it is becoming increasingly apparent that the Ministry's internal opinions differ greatly from that of its head, Mr Cornelius Fudge.

Mr Fudge has declined interviews with the _Prophet's_ reporters, but other members of the Ministry are keen to present their own views on the incident.

'We still are not certain of the facts of the event,' one Kenneth Melchior told reporters. 'And it is therefore difficult to venture any kind of opinion. However, Fudge's reluctance to investigate properly is stalling us.'

Other Ministers aren't so vague:

'Cornelius Fudge's handling of this matter is appalling; it does no one any good,' says Arthur Weasley, the Minister for Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. 'Many people are disgruntled with Fudge's actions now and in the recent past, and we are now considering taking steps.'

None of the Ministers interviewed could confirm reports that a resurrected He Who Must Not Be Named was responsible for the attack on the London Underground. However, few actively denied the rumour; nor has hide or hair been seen since of the two mysterious dogs that ended the Death Eater onslaught so fortuitously. However, tense times are in the wind for the Ministry of Magic and the Minister for Magic especially.

—_January 4 2001, The Daily Prophet_

~~~*~~~

****

FUDGE FAMILY YACHT GOES UNDER—IS IT AN OMEN? ANTIQUE FIGUREHEAD LOST—SHOULD THE MINISTRY DO THE SAME?

Cornelius Fudge attracted negative public attention again in the wake of a yachting accident off the Eastern Coast yesterday.

The Minister for Magic had cancelled several meetings and appointments—some of which were related to the Underground incident—earlier that day to take his family yachting. The Minister's wife defends this action by saying that he 'has been having a very hard time of it lately and needed a rest, the poor dear.'

As the Ministry reorganised itself around the abrupt cancellations, the Fudge family did indeed enjoy a few hours' sailing before tragedy struck and the yacht, _The_ _Pearl_, struck against a reef in shallow waters near a Muggle village. The Minister and his wife managed to Apparate their son (10) and two daughters (8, 7) from the vessel, but _The Pearl_ couldn't be salvaged and sank shortly afterwards. The memories of several Muggles on the shore were wiped to cover the accident.

Immediate investigations indicate that the yacht's enchanted figurehead, a family heirloom, temporarily lost its navigational powers and ran _The Pearl_ into the reef. The figurehead has since disappeared.

When interviewed, Mr Fudge was adamant on the cause: 'Sabotage. They're out to get me.' Who 'they' are was not revealed.

When questions arose as to the findings of the inquiry into the Underground incident, he screamed, 'For the last time, no! The Dark Lord has not risen! We worked so _hard_!'

The Ministry remains unimpressed with their Head's behaviour and signs that the body will begin to kick back are showing:

'Cancelling important meetings and running from a difficult issue are not how a Minister of Magic should act, particularly in tense times such as these,' says one Lucius Malfoy. 'Perhaps it is time to get rid of our own figurehead.'

—_January 6 2001, The Daily Prophet_

~~~*~~~

****

MINISTRY OF MAGIC MOVES TO FLICK FUDGE

After a series of controversies, Cornelius Fudge has finally been voted out of the Ministry. The entire organisation met earlier today to address the issue of Mr Fudge's place in the Ministry, and the vote for dismissal was almost unanimous.

'I think that many people were relieved to see him go,' said the Deputy Minister. 'It was getting to the point that we couldn't function properly with Fudge as Head, and things should never be allowed to be carried so far.'

Mr Fudge himself appeared to be among the many relieved; as he gave his final press conference he was quoted as saying, 'It's about time. I'm too old for this kind of thing now.'

Several Ministers have already registered as candidates for the vacant position, including Arthur Weasley (Dept. of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts) and Lucius Malfoy. 

_—January 7 2001, The Daily Prophet_

Hermione put the newspaper down slowly. Harry, who had been reading over her shoulder, saw the same smile on her face that he felt. 'Ron—'

Beside them, Ron made a hushing noise as he read his own letter. His lips mouthed the words and his eyes grew wide, a grin spreading across his face. He looked up. 'Fudge is out! And Dad's going for the top job!' He thumped enthusiastically on the table, making plates clatter. 'Yeah!'

'We know,' Hermione said, pointing at the Daily Prophet article. 'Congratulations.' She winked at Ginny, who sat beside Ron and was, if anything, glowing even more.

Ron jumped up. 'I'm going to tell the others. Oi, Fred! George—guess what?' He raced off to where the twins were sitting.

'Can I see?' Neville reached across the table. He had taken to sitting near the close-knit group, probably in order to be closer to Ginny—much to Ron's disgruntlement. Hermione handed him the newspaper and his eyes scanned quickly over the article in question as Ron came back to his place. 'Of course on the down side, Malfoy's in the running as well.'

Ron waved a hand dismissively. 'Oh, he'll never get it. Hi, Professor McGonagall. Did you see the news?'

McGonagall's mouth twitched. 'I did, Mr Weasley. I'm sure you're very proud. Mr Longbottom, can I have a word with you, please?'

Grimaces of sympathy were shot in Neville's direction as he got up from his seat and followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall. Notes had passed between himself and his Gran with amazing speed over the past few days, and it had begun to weigh Neville down. A note that had gone directly to Professor McGonagall did not bode well.

They watched him jump as a couple of Slytherins hooted, 'In trouble now, Largebottom!' as he passed by their table. The culprits fell silent under McGonagall's hard gaze. 

'I guess his Gran's decided for him,' Ron observed.

'It might not be that,' Hermione said. 'She might be talking to him about something else.' She glared indignantly at their sceptical faces. 'It's possible. I'm trying to be a bit positive here, all right? Oh, Ginny, are you okay?'

Ginny had placed her knife and fork down very carefully as they were speaking and was now staring at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. 'I don't want him to go.'

'Don't worry, Gin.' Ron squeezed her arm reassuringly. 'It'll be okay.'

Seamus leaned across Dean, much to his friend's annoyance, to ask what would be okay.

'Neville's having a chat to McGonagall,' Ron said. 'Two guesses what about.'

'Oh.' Seamus glanced at Ginny, ignoring Dean's efforts to push him back into his place. The pair had been told a censored version of Neville's situation, all mention of the Order of the Phoenix omitted. 'Do you think she might have decided to let him stay, and just not sent him a letter?'

'Doubt it,' Harry said. 'Sorry, Ginny.'

'Stop trying to comfort me. I'm close enough to crying as it is.'

A few moments later Neville entered the room again, walking like someone whose brain has taken a holiday. He clutched a bit of paper in his hand and stared around him, unseeing.

'Sorry, Neville,' Ron said gruffly as he sat down.

'Mmm-hmm.'

'What's that paper? Neville? Are you awake, or just pretending?'

Neville blinked a few times and seemed to return to himself. 'Sorry?'

'Yeah, I am. What's on that bit of paper?'

Neville handed the scrap over wordlessly. Harry and Hermione craned to see as Ron folded it out. There were two lines of neat script on it:

_Neville dear,_

You win; do me proud. Make a mistake and I will not only bring you home but bury you.

In your haste you forgot to mention Trevor in your last letter. How is the rascal getting on?

All my love,

Gran.

'Wow.' Ron looked up. 'How well do you do in Divination, Finnegan?'

'Average.' Seamus grinned. 'But I predict from the look on your face that it'll be Butterbeers all round next Hogsmeade visit.'

'McGonagall said to tell you,' Neville muttered to Harry as Ron and Seamus began to haggle over who would be buying. 'There's a meeting at the end of the week. She said you'd show me where to go.'

'All right. It's about time we had one.' Harry smiled at the boy, who still seemed gobsmacked. 'Congratulations, Neville. I can't believe she's letting you stay!'

'Nor can I.' Neville gulped. 'I just know I'm going to mess up. She'll kill me!'


	9. Warnings

****

Warnings: This fic is not for anyone under 15 years, unless you have an amazing level of maturity. Nor is it for homophobes. Herein lies slash, het, mentions of rape, torture, psychological manipulation, and coarse language. Heavy stuff, so if you don't like it, don't read it.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To: Andry, Elysa Mental (Glad you like it.), Kristy, Piri Malfoy, AlecC, VoodooDaisuke, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Sorceress Jade, Just Forgotten, Fei, Myr, Wednesday, Penelope-Z, Mel (I know Draco needs Harry, and soon—he's making his presence extremely felt in my head at the moment. It will be soon. Just that there's a story insisting on being built first…), Tashannie, gwen (Plenty of Draco here…slash is coming. I know it's been a long wait; just a little bit longer.), arcania, S. Maldiva (Neville's grinning like an idiot over your review. ^_^ I'm not sure yet who will become the next Minister, although it's most likely to be either Arthur or Lucius.), Shattered Reality. 

****

All Torn Down: Warnings

San Miguel Archangel, little saint

Don't be so hard, so silent,

Don't go on rejoicing in your past

When it's now I really need you.

…

Now's when the devil's beating up,

Now's when the saints, there ain't so many,

Now's when the gods are all good-byes,

And sin strolls around so easy.

…

San Miguel Archangel, little saint, little saint,

San Miguel Archangel, little saint,

Don't stand there like you're made of stone,

While I'm dragged down by disillusion.

I cry cry cry, can't sing any more.

…

Now's when Mephisto's ringing my bell.

Now's when the fat cows are growing skinny.

Now's when bribes are a dime a dozen.

And life's pushing me over the edge.

…

San Miguel, little saint, little saint….

—_San Miguel Archangel_, Liliana Felipe.

Draco strode through the passageways towards Dumbledore's office, aware that he was late. For once he was going to the meeting alone—Snape had given him the password earlier that day.

'Freckles,' he told the gargoyle, wondering what the word had to do with Dumbledore's penchant for sweets. The statue jumped aside and Draco raced up the stairway, pausing long enough at the top to compose himself before entering the office.

The room resembled a sardine tin. Draco caught sight of Dumbledore's phoenix clawing nervously atop a cabinet, and thought the creature must be put off by all the noise. It looked as though most of the Ministry members had turned out—at least those who weren't aligning themselves with Voldemort, and Draco was certain some must be by now. He felt a curl of dislike as he caught sight of Arthur and Molly Weasley talking with Black and Lupin. 

There were a few other newcomers: Neville Longbottom had made an appearance for some reason, and was staring around wide-eyed and open-mouthed beside Harry. He paled as his eyes crossed over Draco, and he shifted around behind the Dream Team. Draco smirked a little in contempt. 

_Run, Squib, run..._

Madam Maxime was there as well, resplendent in her bulk, and looking extremely uncomfortable. She stayed near Hagrid, nervously watching the people milling about her. Draco was surprised; he would never have pegged the women as shy.

Draco couldn't push his way through the crowd more than a few feet, so he remained hovering near the door, listening to the chatter around him. A bellow briefly drowned out the rest of the noise and the bulky wizard who had organised the Azkaban counter-attack came into Draco's line of vision across the room, shaking Snape's hand enthusiastically and speaking to him rapidly. It looked as though they were old friends. McGonagall watched the conversation with distaste from a few feet away.

Draco's eyes shifted around the room again, eventually coming to rest on Melchior, who was watching the exchange between Snape and the other man with cool interest. He turned his face slightly to smirk at Draco, as though he'd known he was being watched, and melted away into the crowd.

Dumbledore stood a few moments later, his presence calling for silence. He beamed at the crowd.

'Here we all are again,' he said, twinkling. 'I must say it's good to see the entire Order together once more. And we have another newcomer—' Dumbledore made a sweeping gesture towards Neville. 'Neville Longbottom narrowly escaped being the first student to be pulled out of Hogwarts as a result of the Dark Lord's actions. It has taken a lot of courage on his part to stay with us and I am happy to welcome him into the Order.'

A low murmur had risen at the pronouncing of Neville's surname, and as Dumbledore paused, the rest of the gathering smiled at him; a few people even clapped quietly. Draco scowled. _No one looked at me like that when I first came here._

'Before we speak of anything else, congratulations are in order,' Dumbledore's eyes shifted to where Black and Lupin stood. 'There was little time to prepare a defence against the Dark Lord's Christmas attack and both Sirius and Remus handled the situation admirably.'

'Hear hear,' someone towards the back called, and there was a rumble of laughter. Snape glared at the canine pair. Draco wondered briefly where that particular enmity sprang from.

'If only old Fudge had followed their lead,' the Potions Master's friend murmured as the noise died down, just loud enough to be heard.

'Cornelius worked more than anyone to restore peace and order when the last war against Voldemort ended. He can be forgiven for not wanting that order to be disturbed again.'

'He's been walking around blindfolded,' someone snorted.

'And as I understand it, he has accepted his dismissal gracefully,' Dumbledore's voice had the slightest edge to it. There was a group shuffling of feet and clearing of throats. 'Let's not descend to mockery of a man who has done so much in the past to help us.'

'That was all you,' Snape's companion protested. 'Fudge never sneezed without your consent.'

'Why don't you register as a candidate for the Ministry, Albus?' Melchior's tones rose from the back, silken, although his face was hidden from view. The phoenix squawked, drowned out by a murmur of agreement reverberating around the room.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled wryly. 'I'm flattered that you seem to think me such a capable leader, but I have a school to run. Moreover,' he nodded at Mr Weasley, 'There are others already in the running who are just as competent as I am, if not more so. Good luck, Arthur.'

'Thank you, sir,' Arthur murmured. Beside him, the Weasel grinned broadly. 

'There is much more we must attend to before the night is done. Olympe brings us good news at last.'

The huge woman cleared her throat nervously. 'Ze giants are willing to 'elp us fight 'E-'O-Mustn't-Be Named. Zey 'ave sent a treaty to sign, and once it is, will send a group to fight ze Dementors at Azkaban.'

A cheer went up. Harry was grinning and chattering with Weasley and Granger; Mad-Eye Moody and Arabella Figg shared a triumphant glance. Draco caught Snape's eye. _Voldemort left the giants to us. He doesn't care..._

'Zere are conditions.' Madam Maxime's voice rose over the commotion, cutting it short. 'Ze giants wish to be allowed to campaign for zeir rights at ze Ministry. Zey want discrimination against zem abolished.'

'Discrimination not wholly unfounded, Maxime,' Melchior said. She shot a warning glance at the back of the room, in the general direction of his voice.

'Zey are willing to change, if we are willing to let zem. I believe it is about time. Also, zey wish to be recognised as, 'ow to say...' She glanced helplessly at Hagrid, and he muttered something in her ear. 'Ah yes, a sapient race. Instead of being drafted as some dumb creature—'

'But they can barely—'

Hagrid cleared his throat loudly and glared around the room, and the anonymous speaker fell silent.

'If ze conditions are not met, ze giants will withdraw zeir aid.'

'Would zey—sorry, they—defect to You-Know-Who?'

'I doubt it. Zey were spurned at ze end of ze last war because zey did side with 'im. If zey leave us zey will probably be neutral, unless attacked.' Madam Maxime held up a roll of parchment. ''Ere is ze treaty. It must be signed by Albus and five Ministers, and shall be returned immediately to ze clan leaders.' She stepped forward and placed the document on Professor Dumbledore's desk.

'Does anyone have any justifiable objections to the treaty?' Dumbledore said. A few wary glances were thrown at Hagrid and Maxime, but no one spoke. 'Right,' the Headmaster said cheerfully. 'Silly to wait, then...if five members of the Ministry would care to step up...' 

He raised a quill and, dipping it in a pot of green ink, flicked his signature over one of the lines at the bottom of the page. Arthur Weasley was the next to sign, then a group of men Draco didn't recognise. Melchior slunk from the back of the room to fill in the last line. As the quill left the parchment, the treaty itself rolled up again and vanished with a faint hissing noise.

'Thank you for persisting in your negotiations, Olympe. I know it took a great deal of effort to persuade the giants to our side.'

Madam Maxime acknowledged Dumbledore with a nod.

'Now—more news, but not such glad tidings from Durmstrang.' Ears perked up at the Headmaster's grave tone. 'Since Professor Karkaroff's disappearance, his deputy and Victor Krum have been managing the school—Victor has dropped his Quidditch commitments to shoulder that responsibility.'

There was a disappointed murmur; Ron looked dumbstruck.

'It is certainly a sad loss, but losing the school would be far worse. And, friends, that seems a possibility. Borshkov and Krum are doing their best, but Durmstrang is foundering. Many of the teachers have left; resources have been cut. I received a letter from the Bulgarian Minister for Magic earlier today requesting our help.'

'Ah,' said Mrs Figg. 'And has our dear Mr Oblanksovic deigned to tell us the whereabouts of his dear school?'

'Not as yet.'

She threw her hands in the air. 'Then how can we be expected to help?'

'We can let them know that when they're prepared to let us, we're prepared to oblige,' Snape said, watching Professor Dumbledore.

'Why should we?'

'Because the Durmstrang faculty and students have a greater understanding of the Dark Arts than we do. Because if they fall to You-Know-Who...' There was a cold silence. 'I vote we help them.'

'I say nay,' Melchior said. 'Why let ourselves be bullied around?'

Dumbledore's phoenix flapped its wings, agitated. Draco glared at it. _What on earth is wrong with that bird?_

'Ayes?' Dumbledore said. There were a few coughs, exchanges of eye contact, and hands began to rise. The Headmaster's lips moved silently as he counted them. 'Very well. The nays?'

Hands rose quickly; Draco counted about half the room and bit his lip. It was close.

'The ayes have it by a whisker,' Dumbledore sighed. 'I will send a message tomorrow morning to let Oblanksovic know.

'Finally, there will be another meeting among the Death Eaters next week. Professors, you all know what to do. Keep a look out for any sign of students using Dark magic; I want to begin pulling them out of Voldemort's fold as soon as possible. Severus, Draco—good luck. Take care.'

'Sir,' Snape said. Draco ducked his head, nodding.

'That is all, except for one thing. Children, would you mind staying behind a moment?' Draco frowned, puzzled, and glanced at Snape, but the man didn't seem to notice. 'Thank you, everyone. I bid you good night and a safe journey home.'

As the rest of the Order shuffled out, the phoenix dropped from its perch on the cabinet and went to its master's shoulder. Draco took a few steps closer to the centre of the room, moved a little towards Dumbledore, and hesitated. Neville and the Dream Team looked just as confused as he. Dumbledore simply smiled at them and gestured for them to move forward. 

'I assure you I am no ogre,' he said, and they clustered around his desk. Draco found himself wedged somehow between Harry and Ron, and tried not to make the fact that he was leaning toward the former too obvious. The Weasel scowled at him.

'You have all shown great courage of one kind or another to have been accepted in the Order of the Phoenix,' Dumbledore began. 'But, alas, courage alone will not defeat Voldemort. I'm sorry, Neville.' 

The boy had squeaked at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. Draco bit back an urge to laugh.

'You might have wondered why Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin always attend these meetings, even though they don't work at Hogwarts any more and could as easily be notified of events by owl post. There are two reasons. One, they are both skilled in and dedicated to fighting the Dark Arts. The second reason is that you can all learn a great deal from them, and from a select number of teachers at this school.'

'Don't we already?' Weasley said.

Dumbledore smiled. 'You learn basic magic skills from them, now, yes. But I doubt any of you know of the Great Arts.'

Granger's brow creased. 'Isn't that what the Aurors use, sir?'

The Headmaster chuckled. 'I stand corrected; Hermione, you are a marvel.' She blushed. 'Yes, the Great Arts are used by the Aurors. They consist of the most powerful magic capable of fighting the Dark Arts, and it is time that you began to be trained in their use. Your Heads of House will tell you when and where to go for your lessons. Your teachers will be Professors Moody, Figg, Snape, McGonagall, and Lupin. Pay careful attention to what they tell you; it may later save your life. I expect all of you—' He paused to look directly at each of them in turn— '_All_ of you to work together as closely as possible. Good luck.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Harry said. His breath brushed Draco's ear.

'Good night, everyone.'

Draco was the first to leave; he was tired and the glares that Weasel kept throwing his way were irritating. He paced through the halls and, on reaching the end of the tunnel, spun neatly into his room.

The layer of dust that normally permeated the place was gone; the tepid water had been removed and the linen on the bed was fresh. His mended robes lay on the mattress, folded neatly. There was a short note pinned to them, in a crooked, inexpert scrawl:

_Master Malfoy,_

As Mats Master sees, everythying is in order. Dobby expects two Sickles at end of the week. Good knihgt night, sir.

Dobby

P.S. Harry Potter says thaynk you for the present, whoever it is from.

Draco smiled, putting the note and the robes aside. He wondered who helped Dobby write the note as he changed into his pyjamas and slid between the clean sheets. Draco pulled the linen around him and closed his eyes, a small smile softening his face. 

'Thank you for keeping it, Harry.'

~~~*~~~

The class gathered close together, eyeing the crates Hagrid had laid out on the lawn. A few people flinched as one of the boxes jumped. The half-giant grinned.

'Now, don' be scared. They'll be jus' the same little rascals yeh all know an' love once they're out. A bit more docile too, prob'ly, now they've had their kip.' The group began to relax at that. 'Now, when I open the boxes, yeh're each of you to find yer imp and don't annoy it. They'll be actin' a little strange, since it's the breeding season, and this is what'll happen: each imp will be lookin' fer a mate, and no one's ter get in their way, understand?' Heads bobbed. 'Good. Whoever's imp they pick, that's the person yeh'll be working with fer the rest o' the year, right? Right. Let's get on with it, then.'

As the first crate was pulled open, Draco prepared to run. 'A bit more docile' coming from Hagrid's mouth was only small reassurance. Several people around him seemed to be doing the same thing.

The lid fell away with a soft _thud_. Nothing emerged from within. Hagrid bent down, peering inside. 'Let's see...ah, still sleepin'. We've got a maroon one in here, a dark grey and a black. Those sound like anyone's?'

Draco edged forward with the small number of students who had imps of those colours. Most of them turned away when they peered into the box, but a couple stooped down and picked the slumbering imps up. The black imp was the only one left when Draco looked inside. 

It was curled up in a little hollow of straw, even smaller than Draco remembered. Its ears were furled over its stubby little nose; fluctuating with each breath, and one tiny fist was jammed into its mouth. The placid look on its face made it almost unrecognisable, but it was his.

Carefully, Draco picked the creature up and let it lie in the palm of his hand as he moved away to allow Hagrid to open the other boxes. Looking down at it, he wondered if all its bad temper was just tiredness. It seemed impossible that something so apparently guileless could be responsible for all the mayhem he remembered.

The imp lifted one ear and slowly sat up, blinking in the light. It looked up at Draco and smiled. Without really realising he was doing it, he smiled back. The imp got to its feet and staggered toward the edge of his hand.

'Careful with 'em,' Hagrid called out, and Draco looked up to see a couple of girls trying to catch their runaway charges. Too late, he registered the sharp pain in his thumb. Draco hissed and pulled the imp from his hand. It hung from his fingers by its ears, squealing in malevolent glee.

'You evil little sod.'

It poked its tongue out and in a few seconds a familiar squeakiness began to rise from its heaving lungs. Draco deposited it in his palm. 

'Well? Are you going to find one of your own kind to pester, or am I the sole beneficiary of your affections?'

The imp glared at him and wriggled under his sleeve before he could stop it. Draco shook his arm wildly in an effort to dislodge the creature as tiny claws pierced his skin, marking its journey to his shoulder. He grunted as the vicious teeth found their way into his flesh again, and held his arm still. It seemed like the least painful way.

The imp's head emerged from the collar of Draco's robe. It squatted on his shoulder and surveyed the rest of the class over the curve of fabric, muttering to itself. Draco watched its eyes twitch from imp to imp as its scowl deepened.

'Don't like the merchandise?'

It turned to glare at him, but the snarl died halfway up its throat. Its gaze shifted past Draco. The scowl was replaced by an evil grin.

'Found something?'

The imp whistled loudly and propelled itself from him, racing off somewhere behind. Draco turned to see it bowl into a green imp, and groaned. _Not again_.

'Weasel, get your imp away from mine!'

Ron had been talking to Hermione a few feet away. He turned sharply at Draco's cry and stared at the two creatures rolling around on the lawn. 'Just can't keep a hold, can you, Ferret?'

'I don't see you watching your imp's every movement.' Draco stalked to the two blurs, who seemed to be containing themselves to a few square feet of ground this time. Ron met him from the opposite side. 

'I only looked away for a minute,' he muttered. Draco snorted. They glared at each other, then down at their imps.

'Now that's something new,' Draco remarked, watching his pull handfuls of grass up and throw it at the little green devil, which spun about. It paused in its whirling to emit an ear-throbbing, keening cry.

'Ah,' Hagrid said, striding over. 'Looks like a couple have found their way ter each other. Good on 'em.'

Ron stared at the imps. They were bowling each other about again, but not with the viciousness of a fight. His voice was flat. 'You're kidding.'

The imps paused in their rough-and-tumble. The black one was spread-eagled over Ron's, holding its counterpart's forelimbs down. It smirked and pressed their faces together.

'But they were fighting like rats over cheese before!'

'You'd know,' Draco murmured. The Weasel glared at him.

'Sorry, Ron,' Hagrid said firmly. 'It's yer imp's choice, not yer own.' Another keening cry rose across the way and the man smiled, misty-eyed. 'Jus' listen to 'em, would yeh...'

Casting a sympathetic glance at Weasley, he headed away. Ron knelt down and poked his imp in the ribs.

'Come on. You've had your fun, now let's go...' The imp merely snuggled in closer to Draco's, which scowled up at Ron. Draco saw the warning sign, but decided not to comment. Ron's voice turned gently cajoling. 'Look, you hated this one before; what's so different now? Just come away...'

Draco squatted down, watching his imp's growing agitation and Weasley's apparent obliviousness to it with interest. 'Could be a hormonal thing. Hagrid said something about 'damn hormones' when they got into that fight last term.'

'Oh, shut up. Look, there's a class full of imps out there. You can have any of them—just not _this_ one—ah!' Ron had been trying to extricate his imp from the tangled embrace they had fallen into, but the black devil flipped forward and latched its teeth into the fragile skin betwixt thumb and finger. 'Malfoy, control this thing, will you!'

'Seems to be behaving perfectly well to me.' 

Draco watched the Weasel's fruitless efforts to pull it off with amusement. Ron said something that would have earned him a detention if Hagrid hadn't been trying to cope with an unhappy situation involving Longbottom and Bulstrode several metres away.

'Watch your mouth,' Draco snapped, feeling himself flush with anger and embarrassment. 'That's disgusting, Weasel; where do you come up with those things?'

Ron growled, and Draco rolled his eyes, forcing himself to bite down on his temper. He held his hand out with extreme distaste. 'Here.' Suspicion hooded Weasley's expression, causing Draco's scowl to deepen. 'I'm hardly going to try anything with _you_. Do you want it off or not?'

Ron abruptly shoved the assailed hand into Draco's. 'Hurry up.'

Draco took hold of his imp, still firmly attached to the Weasel's flesh. It gave a whining growl, and he felt a pang of understanding. 'I know,' he muttered. 'He's a bastard, isn't he?'

'Shut up and get on with it.'

With great care, rather more concerned with the imp's comfort than with Ron's, Draco prised its mouth away from his hand. He was delighted to see a row of bloody pinpricks where its teeth had punctured flesh. Weasley pulled his hand back roughly, letting his imp inspect the damage. It looked reproachfully back at Draco's.

Draco looked down at the deflated countenance of the little creature in his hand. Sighing, he set it on the ground and watched it toddle over to apologise to its mate. 'You just can't get around it, can you? If I've..._contaminated_ something, you don't want anything to do with it.'

'That's not true. Harry—'

Draco couldn't help smiling a little. 'He's impossible to contaminate...'

Ron glared at him. 'Stop that right now. I _don't _want to have to see you blush again.' He broke off to watch the imps as they chattered at one another. His eyes softened briefly as his leaned forward to snuffle at Draco's, before the scowl returned. 'Bloody hell, why did she have to pick _yours_?'

Draco's lip curled. 'Yes, it would all have been so much easier if you'd been paired with Granger, wouldn't it?'

'Well? I bet you were banking on it choosing Harry, you slimy—'

'Oh, shut up. I haven't touched him, not once, all right? He's made it fairly obvious he wants nothing to do with me.'

The Weasel sneered. 'And he never will.' 

Draco didn't trust himself to speak. He watched the imps dully, fighting the sheer emotion rising in his chest. Weasley hadn't apparently noticed—or didn't care—and went on in a contrived conversational tone. 

'Must be really terrible, to know none of your fantasies will ever come true...'

'Drop it, Weasel.' _Please._

Ron was taken aback at the tightness in his voice, and fell silent for a moment. Draco felt the weight of his scrutiny, and stared more forcefully at the imps, determined not to look up. 

'Fine,' Weasley said gruffly. 'Sorry.'

Draco's eyes widened. 'What was that?'

'Don't make me say it again.'

He nodded, knowing better than to push his luck any further. The silence between them signalled an uneasy truce.

'So,' Ron said eventually. 'What do we do now?'

Draco shrugged. 'Hagrid said something about collecting saplings from the Forbidden Forest, didn't he?'

'Don't remember,' Ron said, colouring slightly. 'Wasn't really listening...'

'Yes,' Draco said wryly. 'You only took your eyes away for a minute, didn't you?'

'Shut up. What kind of plants are we talking about here?'

'Anything with leaves on.' Draco gave the landscape a disparaging glance. 'Which currently limits us to evergreens.'

'Why the Forbidden Forest specifically?'

'More plants, I suppose.'

They stood, and prised their imps from one another with great difficulty, some pain, and several assurances that the parting was only temporary. The pair nevertheless looked stricken at being separated, and their keening calls to one another echoed across the grounds, marking Ron and Draco's passage to the outskirts of the forest.

'Why do they bother hibernating anyway, if they wake up still in winter?' Ron muttered.

'It's not natural hibernation—we had to give them those sleeping draughts, or don't you remember, Weasel?'

'My memory's fine, Ferret.'

Draco's fists clenched. 'Don't call me that.'

'Then stop with the Weasel thing.'

Draco glared at him and went on. 'The imp minds need some time to sleep—can you imagine what an imp going for two years without a rest would be like?' Weasley winced. 'Exactly. But they aren't really built for hibernation, so they wake up early.'

Weasley plucked his imp from its vantagepoint on his head and tucked it into the thick collar of his robe. 'They might freeze.'

'They have a kind of magical heat field they can generate until the weather gets warmer.'

Ron glanced at him, eyes suspicion-laden. 'You read the chapter, didn't you?'

'I was bored.'

'Whatever. Just don't act like Hermione. It's disturbing.'

'Me? Act like—' Draco shuddered. 'That _is_ disturbing.'

'Don't insult my girlfriend!'

'You said it first.' Draco chose to ignore Weasley's irate countenance in favour of examining the gaunt saplings before them. 'What a wonderful choice,' he said dryly, staring at the sickly things. Ron watched as Draco examined each tree carefully, dismissing them one after the other— 'Too heavy, too gangly, half-frozen....'

Ron growled impatiently. 'Why don't we let the imps choose?'

Draco shook his head. 'Call this their wedding present...Weasley, will you stop giving me the death glare and help me pick something out?'

'I don't know what you're looking for! They all look okay to me.'

Draco straightened up. 'We want something with a lot of greenery.'

'Because...?'

'Weasley, you do realise this is supposed to be their bower? That they'll be mating in it? So unless you wanted to watch....'

Ron flushed an angry crimson. 'You sick pervert! How dare you say something like that, when you're—you're—'

Draco's eyes flashed. His imp, sensing the tension, dug its claws into his shoulder. 'I'm what, Weasley?'

'You know damn well what I'm talking about!'

The thought that Harry would loathe him was all that kept Draco from knocking the Weasel out. 'Choose a tree.'

Ron looked around wildly and stabbed a finger at a bushel of green. Draco traced a rough circle about its trunk with the tip of his wand, estimating where the roots would have spread to, and muttered a quick Herbology spell to loosen the earth within the ellipse.

'_Wingardium leviosa_.'

Following the direction of Draco's wand, the sapling rose and floated between them as they made their way back towards Hagrid's cabin, in a silence so tense it was electric. The rest of the class had already gathered with their trees, and were standing around in a muddy area by the cabbage patch, riddled with holes.

'Ah,' Hagrid said warmly as they approached. 'Just in time. All right everyone, jus' set 'em down where I've dug all the holes, that's right.'

The half-giant glanced worriedly between Ron and Draco as they set the evergreen into the mud, all the while in stony silence, but he didn't try to talk to either of them. 

Within a few minutes, a miniature evergreen forest had sprung up by the cabin. Not everyone appreciated it with Hagrid and Longbottom's fervour, however—several members of the class had slipped and fallen in the mud while trying to stand their specimens in the holes—Draco could hear Berald complaining loudly about a large brown patch on the back of his robes. He snorted.

'What's funny?' Weasley said sharply, patting mud in around the trunk.

Draco scowled at him, but relented and flicked his eyes in Berald's direction. Ron glanced over as he straightened up. His expression wheeled through phases of disgust and contemptuous humour, and he gave a short laugh.

Hagrid was ignoring the Slytherin's complaints, issuing instructions to set the imps in the saplings' branches. Green and black barrelled into one another as soon as they touched wood, and the pair of imps toppled down a way before Draco's pulled their fall short, latching onto a twiggy branch. They hung for a moment, squeaking at each other, before the green imp scrambled up and pulled her mate close. That was where they remained, occasionally nuzzling or snapping at one another.

'—Will see you fired for this!' Berald yelled at Hagrid. The class stilled, watching their teacher for his reaction.

'Will yeh, now?' Hagrid said quietly, turning so he was fully facing Berald. He loomed over the boy. 'Fer a bit o' mud, boy? People have tried ter get rid of me before, but I reckon even they would think I'm worth a bit more than dirt. Now get down ter see about gettin' those things cleaned before yeh see the giant side of me.'

Draco's mouth pulled into a tight, nasty grin as he watched Gerard go pale, saw his mouth flap wildly like a fish out of water. He gave a terrified squeak and ran off, back to the castle.

'Of course,' Hagrid said when he was gone, 'It'd take a bit more than a lump of dirt to _make_ that side o' me come out.'

The class laughed. Draco thought that some of them sounded extremely relieved. _Friendly relations with the giants are a long way off._

'Yeh've all worked well this lesson, and it's good to see yeh makin' an effort to get on—even if yeh weren't paired with someone yeh were hopin' for. Now yeh'd all better go get something to eat before next class.'

The pairs broke up into the class's generic groups and cliques as the students moved toward the castle. Ron drifted over to Harry and Hermione, throwing odd glances behind him.

Draco sighed and turned back to the imps as the trio moved out of sight. His had its little black arms wrapped close about its mate in a protective hold. Ron's imp seemed perfectly content in the embrace; its head nestled in the crook of a dark shoulder. 

As Draco watched, the black imp nipped gently at a green ear to get the other's attention, and gave an oddly melodious whistle. Ron's imp answered the call with one of its own and they collapsed together on the branch, arms, legs and even ears entangling for what Draco counted as their first kiss. He glanced back at the slight rise of ground over which Harry, Hermione, and Ron had disappeared.

'It just couldn't be that easy, could it?'

'What couldn't?'

Draco whirled to the side and gaped. 'Pansy—I thought you'd gone back to the castle.'

'Well, you were wrong.' She pursed her lips. 'I want to talk to you. Now.'

Pansy turned and began to walk away before Draco could respond. She had gone a few metres before he called out, 'Is it something I want to hear?'

She stopped, looked back. 'Probably not. But you can hear it now, while there's only the two of us, or screamed at the top of my lungs tomorrow in the Great Hall.'

_That doesn't bode well._ Draco caught up in a few strides and they walked together in silence for a moment, putting a decent distance between themselves, Hagrid's hut, and the castle. 

'Not a Gryffindor girl, then,' Pansy began suddenly.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'No. Not a Gryffindor girl.'

'Or a Ravenclaw.'

'_No_, Pansy.'

'Or any girl, in fact.'

'Is there a point to going over this old ground?'

She bit her lip, and for a second a trace of apprehension flickered in her eyes. 'Is it a boy?'

'_What_?' Draco rounded on her with what he hoped was the right amount of angered indignation. Every swearword he knew buzzed through his head. 'Pansy, for Heaven's sake—'

'Is it?' Pansy cried shrilly. 'Is it—is that the truth, Draco? Why you've abandoned me, why you—'

'Pansy, stop being so damn stupid! I have to keep an eye on Potter's gang, that's all!'

'No it isn't. It isn't! Someone's taking you away from me--'

'I was never yours to begin with!' She jumped and fell silent at the vehemence of his shout. 'Don't cry about being abandoned when it is you, Pansy, who has caused strife here. This is all just some idiotic idea you've managed to concoct in that cracked mind of yours.' Her lip trembled and Draco could see tears forming in her eyes, but he went on. 'I keep telling you that I have a mission—from Voldemort, Pansy!—but that's not good enough for you. So what do you want? Would it be better if I said I'd never want anything to do with a wretch like you?' He looked her slowly up and down, showing the full depths of his disdain as she trembled before him. _Pitiable_. 'I don't know why I bothered with you in the first place.'

Draco turned and began to walk away. He didn't bother to pause at the sound of feet scuttling after him, didn't turn when he heard her cry, 'Don't turn your back on me, Draco Malfoy. Don't you dare!'

But he whirled around as her nails latched onto his wrist, pulling his hand out of her reach. 'Don't touch me! How many times do I have to say it?'

Pansy's face, contorted with fury, pushed towards him. 'How dare you? After all our loyalty, after everything we've done for you—everything your father's done—'

An explosion went off inside Draco's head, and he advanced on her with a snarl. His ears rang. There was a burning sensation in his eyes, although he couldn't tell whether it was from rage or tears. Pansy must have been frightened, though, because she backed away. 'What my father's done for me? You want to know, hmm? Do you, Pansy?'

'Draco—'

'HE HAD ME RAPED!' 

The shout was out and gone before Draco could civilise it, veil it with safe words. His breath caught in horror, and he watched Pansy's face transform through disbelief, realisation, and disgust to an aghast expression that echoed his own feelings. Draco gave a little moan and covered his face with his hands. _Please, please let no one else have heard that...shit..._

'Draco...' The sensation of her fingertips against his hands, soft now, nevertheless sent Draco staggering backwards.

'Enough...please...' He sank to his knees, ignoring the freezing moisture of snow seeping through his robes.

Draco heard Pansy move, and knew she was standing beside him. He let his hands drop to his lap; it was a feeble shield anyway. She was kneeling, staring at him. He searched for something to say, and was relieved to hit upon a safe topic.

'I'm still with Voldemort. I just don't want anything to do with Lucius. Have to watch Potter. Still with Voldemort, got to...'

'So, then, it might be a boy.'

He stared at her, disbelieving. 'Don't you listen? I _said_—'

'You keep saying you're still aligned with Voldemort. Fine. You have to watch Potter, all right. But that doesn't explain why you've turned away from me.'

'I've. Been. Raped. Don't you understand? I'm damaged goods, you don't want me anyway...'

'That's not true, you know. Anyway, that's just an excuse.'

'_What_?'

'You heard. I think you're just using it as an excuse. Other people have had—_that_—done to them before, and I bet they don't all get phobias like yours.'

'Pansy...'

'That's it, isn't it, Draco? You can deny it all you want, but I think I've figured you out, and it scares you, doesn't it?' She tilted her head. 'So, you've decided you like boys...and you've been watching Potter very closely, haven't you?'

Draco gave a low, brittle laugh. 'You go too far.'

'Am I right?'

'No.'

'Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Because as I've said before, one owl is all it takes.'

There was a cold pause. 'I think that if I had the strength, I'd kill you now.'

She flashed a bitter smile. 'You can't touch me. Won't, anyway.'

'What do you want?'

She stood, and looked down at him coolly. 'You. I want you to forget about him, _who_ever he is, and come back to me. To where you belong.'

Draco got to his feet, made a show of brushing the snow from his robes. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and said softly, 'I'm not up for barter.'

The cold mask slipped, and Draco was surprised to see genuine concern in her eyes. 'Please, Draco. I've heard about what he does to gays. I don't want that to happen to you.'

'Then you won't say anything, will you?'

A feeling of sickening dread gathered in Draco's gut as he walked away, back to the castle. Racing through the passages to his room, he began to feel unbearably cold. Draco wrenched a blanket from the bed and hunched in the corner, shivering, with it wrapped around him. Vaguely he remembered having History of Magic now, but did it matter?

Now that he was alone, and in a semblance of calmness, Draco could see dozens of ways in which he could have lied to Pansy, thrown her off. 

_Stupid, so damn stupid!_

She could speak to anyone, and there were only a few more days before the gathering of Death Eaters.

So what was he relying on now? Pansy's loyalty to him? He was as good as dead.

~~~*~~~

Draco's hands trembled as he lifted the mask to his face. It was the appointed time.

The other Death Eaters in the student body had been nudging each other and exchanging meaningful looks all day. They were looking forward to it. He'd had to excuse himself from dinner that night because he couldn't stomach the secret glances any longer.

The torn Mark burned away, blackening at his wrist. Draco scratched at it in a feeble effort to lessen some of the pain. Why hadn't he been able to get rid of it?

'I wonder whether it would hurt more if it was whole?'

A word and a flick of his wand doused the flames in the fireplace. Another word lit the tip of his wand, and Draco swept out of the room, hurrying through the tunnel beyond.

He wouldn't be meeting with Snape tonight. The Potions Master had specifically asked him to go alone this time.

_I should have told him. He said I could talk to him..._

...It's not worth it. She won't do anything.

Not that he hadn't tried to speak to the professor—three or four times in the past two days, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The man was worried enough about this meeting without having Draco's problems to deal with as well.

_She won't speak. She won't..._

A sudden, crippling jolt of pain stabbed into his left wrist, sending Draco stumbling against the wall. He leaned against the stones for support, holding his forearm and trying to remember how to breathe as aftershocks pulsed through him, growing slowly weaker. Draco raised his arm carefully, wriggling his fingers to make sure they were intact.

A crimson line glowed on his wrist, defining the shape of the Dark Mark.

'Wha-what does that mean?'

Draco flexed his fingers again. He drew a deep breath, eased himself from the wall, and began to pelt through the castle. He wished he'd gone with Snape. The Potions Master probably knew what the red line meant. Perhaps it was why he'd wanted to be alone this time.

He made it outside uninterrupted and continued to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Draco had thought he was early, but most of the Death Eaters he recognised were gathered already, whispering amongst themselves. The Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen.

Draco stopped at the edges of the group. He deliberately ignored the cold gaze of Lucius, looking instead for Snape. He couldn't find him.

'Did you feel it too?'

Draco turned at the low voice and rush of warm breath against his ear, and his eyes met hazel. Harper's eyes flicked downward, and Draco followed his gaze to see him tapping the back of his wrist. He nodded.

'Know what it means?'

'No.'

'I've only felt it a few times before. Means the Dark Lord has found another minion.'

Draco shuddered, and became aware of the sudden warmth and closeness of Kieran's body behind him. He hadn't heard the boy move.

'All right?'

'Yes, I'm fine. Where is the Lord?'

'He was here a moment ago. Went off somewhere, told everyone else to stay.' Kieran nodded towards a nearby copse of trees that obscured part of the dark landscape. 'Your father was very disappointed.'

'Oh?'

'He had his snake with him.'

Draco shivered again. He felt a hand on his wrist, fingers stroking the scars underneath.

'Cold tonight, isn't it?'

'Yes.' Draco closed his eyes, drew his hand out of Kieran's grasp with a pang of reluctance that scared him. 'Harper...'

'Yes?'

'Are you—' Draco hesitated, and dropped his voice to a whisper. 'Are you gay?'

There was a pause, and when Kieran spoke his voice rang with amusement. 'What on earth makes you think that?'

'Just answer the question clearly for once, or go away.'

Draco's eyebrows rose slightly as he listened to Harper's footsteps shifting away from him. He would have thought the youth would at least come up with some enigmatic parry to avoid him. He turned his head in the direction Kieran had gone, and their eyes met for an instant before Harper looked away.

Draco had expected coolness, arrogant amusement. In that brief second, what he saw instead was a troubled child.

His attention was diverted from Harper as three figures emerged from the shadows of the trees. Two, he recognised. One was Voldemort, with Nagini draped around his shoulders like an ineffectual cloak. The other, carrying a small wooden box, was Snape.

The third figure was smaller, and moved with a gait that seemed familiar but which Draco couldn't quite place. The face of the stranger was enshrouded by the hood over his—or was it her?—head.

As though by some silent command, the Death Eaters shuffled into a rough circle. The three took their places among the group: Snape to the left of Voldemort and the newcomer to his right. Silence fell.

'Well,' the Dark Lord began. 'I trust that you all had a good holiday? A...merry Christmas?' Eyes twitched and glanced furtively behind the ring of masks. 'Yes, I'm sure you did. Never mind that the attack on the London Underground failed. There will be other chances.'

The Death Eater beside Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

'And yet...I can't help thinking how strange it is that we were stopped by two dogs. I refuse to believe that a gathering of Death Eaters such as this could possibly be held back by a pair of stray mongrels—however easily some ran from the teeth and claws.' Crabbe and Goyle—senior as well as junior—stiffened guiltily under Voldemort's glare, and didn't relax when he looked away again. 'And did no one else notice that one of the dogs bore amazing resemblance to a werewolf? I spoke with Peter Pettigrew afterwards, and it turns out that Dumbledore does have such a creature in his...arsenal.'

The group sniggered. Draco's teeth clenched. _Doesn't anyone here remember Professor Lupin—what he taught us? I laughed at him, but...the Boggart. Don't they remember that? Never mind that he's a—a werewolf...._

'So, the dogs were in fact sent by the Muggle-lover, and no doubt the wraiths set upon our agents at Azkaban were his doing as well. We were caught unaware, so it is no shame that we were forced to retreat.

'However, I do seem to remember leaving some of you behind—four, I believe—to watch Potter, and to warn us of any schemes formed by Dumbledore and his cronies. Yet not one gave any warning of what we were to face. Can any of you explain this?' Voldemort looked around expectantly.

'Please, master, forgive us! We will serve you better, I promise—'

'I asked for an explanation, Berald! Save your grovelling for another day.' The Dark Lord glanced about again. 'Anyone? No?' He sighed. 'Snape, put down the box. Come before me, all of you.'

They did so, the four of them drawing into a line in front of him. Draco found himself standing between Snape and Harper. Voldemort pointed his wand at each of their faces in turn. Draco felt a knot of terror work itself into his stomach as the tip hovered inches from his eyes, then moved on to Harper. Berald actually cringed away when it came before him.

Nagini's head lifted from Voldemort's shoulder, her tongue flickering at them. She hissed and slithered downward until her head rested over the Dark Lord's heart.

'The four of you were privileged above all others here,' Voldemort said. 'It is a pity that you chose to abuse that privilege by not doing the task that I set you. It does not pay to be disobedient. As you will learn....' The wand slid back to Snape. Voldemort gave a cold smile. '_Crucio._'

Snape gasped and Draco felt him tense, but he didn't cry out. Voldemort seemed delighted.

'Come now, man. Why don't you just scream? I know you must want to...'

A gargle escaped from Snape's throat. Draco heard his mouth snap shut.

'Are you worried that someone in the village will hear you and come running to see what the matter is? Ah, Snape. Always the considerate one...'

The older Death Eaters laughed, and Draco wondered exactly what kind of jab lay in that remark. Snape began to shake. The Dark Lord leaned closer to him.

'Don't worry. Anyone who comes running down here won't be running away.'

Bile rose in Draco's throat. He'd never actually seen the Killing Curse performed on a human before.

The smile on Voldemort's face widened. Draco saw the wand flick upward, saw the Dark Lord's mouth open to utter an incantation. He felt his feet move in front of Snape of their own accord as the wand came down.

'_Crucio crescere_!'

Draco screamed once, and clapped a hand to his mouth, howling into his palm and praying no one in the village had heard. There was _nothing_ but the pain. He couldn't see, couldn't feel anything outside of it. Invisible needles punctured every part of him: his skin, his eyes, his insides. He breathed, and the coarseness of the air tearing through his throat almost killed him. Draco heard voices around him, but they were far away and they meant nothing, because there _was_ nothing, only—

'_Finite incantatem_.'

Draco was on his knees, still wreaked with agony, but there was a world outside of it now, one swiftly dimming. Hands caught Draco and pulled him back as he dropped forward, lids darkening his vision.

'_Enervate_.'

Draco's eyes flicked wide open. He was on his back, his head supported by Snape's hands. Voldemort stood over him. He felt the tip of the accursed wand run along the line of his jaw, a gesture of mock-concern.

'You should wait your turn next time.' The Dark Lord glanced at Lucius as Draco sat up. 'You've bred one eager for pain, friend. I do hope he won't continue to fail me in an effort to feel more.'

'Rest assured he won't, Lord.'

'Good.' Voldemort cast a perfunctory glance back at Draco. 'Get back into the circle.'

Draco had to fight the urge not to run from him as he returned to his position. Snape had also returned to the circle, and was holding the box again. Draco couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes. 

He was saved from catching too many pitying glances as the Dark Lord addressed the gathering again. Nagini wound her way to his other shoulder and tasted the air above the box in Snape's hands.

'Tonight, we welcome a newcomer into our midst. One who has already proven great strength of loyalty to me.' Voldemort nodded at the figure to his right, who stepped forward, and finally lifted the hood.

It was Pansy. In the shimmering wand-light, her eyes seemed to glitter at Draco.

'Open the box, Snape.'

The Potions Master lifted the lid aside and took a small bottle from the box, filled with a red liquid that matched the line still coursing around the Mark on Draco's wrist. Nagini's eyes gleamed as Snape unstoppered the bottle. The moment his hand moved from its lip, she struck. Milky fluid streamed from her fangs into the potion, which steamed and hissed. Snape handed the bottle to Voldemort.

'Kneel and receive the Mark that will bind you to the cause.' Pansy knelt obediently. 'Give me your hand in loyalty.'

'I swear myself to you, Master, and am proud to be bound by the Dark Mark. I am your humble servant in all things…' Pansy intoned as she raised her left hand. Voldemort took it, and poured the potion over the proffered wrist—

— —A scream as heat and poison dribbled over his arm and nails bit into his wrist, hands holding him down, a cruel smile above him and Lucius's pale eyes beside, dead and watching, and promising more pain to come— —

—

Pansy didn't move, or make any sound as the heat settled into her skin. Voldemort raised his wand and swung it above her wrist. 

'_Morsmordre minor_!'

Draco remembered screaming and twisting away from the smile and hands as the Mark was scorched into him, but Pansy merely waited until Voldemort released her, whereupon she bent down and kissed the hem of his robes.

'I hope that you find a good servant in me, my lord.'

'Take your place among the circle.'

Two Death Eaters drew apart to make room for Pansy. One of them was her father.

'I will see you all again in a week's time. Azkaban is proving to be a larger problem than I had anticipated and if events continue as they have been, some of you may be looking at…promotion…' Voldemort smirked at the whispers that rose. 'No one is to speak of what has happened here tonight, except to inform those who failed to come—_again—_' He glared at Snape. 'Therefore, until I see you again…'

The Dark Lord drew himself up to his full height, nodded at them, and Disapparated. The Death Eaters elder did not linger this time, and a series of _pops_ echoed each other in the night. Only Pansy's father paused to speak to his daughter:

'Well done, my girl. Now we'll show them what the Parkinsons are capable of.'

She glanced at Draco. 'Yes. We will.'

He patted her on the shoulder and Disapparated with the rest. Pansy swept past Draco, moving ahead of the other students towards Hogwarts.

Draco turned, waiting for Snape. The Potions Master threw the box aside and they stalked after the others in heavy silence. Draco stared ahead, and wondered how much of Snape's anger was directed at him.

The gaggle of Death Eaters were barely visible in the dark ahead of them, but they were close enough for Draco to see when one separated from the group and made for the Forbidden Forest. 

'That's odd...' Draco frowned. It looked like..._What does Harper think he's doing?_

'What is?' 

' Someone just went into the Forbidden Forest.' 

Snape grunted. 'Perhaps they're trying to escape while they can.'

Draco looked up at his teacher. 'Are you angry with me? For stepping in front of you?' 

Snape sighed. 'How can I be? It's the noblest thing anyone has ever done for me.'

'Professor?' 

' Yes?' 

'What did he mean, when he was, was torturing you and he said you were considerate?' 

Snape stopped and pulled off his mask. Draco lifted his own from his face, and stared at the tired lines etched across the Potions Master's face.

'I never want you to ask me that again.' 

'Oh.' Draco hung his head. 'Sorry, sir.' 

'When the Dark Lord orders a person to be executed, he doesn't mean for them just to be killed.' Snape's voice was slow and toneless. Draco looked up at him, wide-eyed. Rituals—torture—must be performed first. When I was chosen to execute David and Morgan, I disregarded all of that. I paid for it dearly, but at least I could save them from that fate. That is what he meant.'

Snape turned on his heel and paced away. Draco bit his lip and raced to catch up with him, watching the ground blur beneath his feet. He looked up at Snape, at the brooding eyes and grim set of his mouth.

****

_I..._

Sorry.

Snape was forced to stop a second time, largely because of Draco's arms around his shoulders. Draco clung to him, feeling like a child. 'Sorry...so, so sorry....'

Snape froze for a second. Then Draco felt his arms move about him, and fingers stroking back his hair—awkwardly, but gently as well.

'It was a long time ago,' his teacher murmured. 'You shouldn't have to worry about it.'

Draco didn't fight the arms that pushed him back, keeping him at a respectable distance. He looked up at Snape, and was surprised at the compassion he saw there.

'You shouldn't have had to endure the amplified Cruciatus curse, Draco. Not tonight—not ever. But you did. You're doing well, better than any of us had hoped.' Snape hesitated over his next words, as though it was something he didn't like to say and didn't often have cause to. 'I'm proud of you.'

'Really?'

'Yes. Really. Now come on; it's cold out here and you have to be awake for school tomorrow.'

They trudged the rest of the way to the castle in silence, but it was comfortable now. Draco kept glancing at the man beside him, wondering how much of his past he still kept locked away. They bade each other good night at the castle doors and parted ways.

A few moments later, Kieran Harper emerged from the trees and hurried to the castle. He only paused a second at the doors to look back at the figure he knew would still be watching, and ducked inside, hurrying away to Gryffindor Tower.


	10. Dawn and Darkness

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: If you're under 15 years old, you shouldn't be here. The chapter contains slash, het, and coarse language. If you can't handle all of that, the Back button shouldn't be too difficult to locate.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:Fei, diprezant - truly madly deeply, Hollie Ishida, K. Ashley (More about Kieran will be forthcoming in the next few chapters; Snape's past will take a while longer to fill out.), Shoujo Kitsune, VoodooDaisuke, Queen of Cyrum, Canarde, Jessica (I didn't enjoy writing chapter eight so much, and maybe that got into my writing a little. It was largely an interim chapter to keep things moving. I am glad you liked chapter nine, though. Kieran is interesting, sure enough, and a master of secrets. When he ran into the forest, he had something to report—that will play itself out in upcoming chapters. Voldemort's intent was to torture each of the children in turn, but that was abandoned because of the uproar Draco caused when he caught the amplified curse, so yes, he would have been hurt either way.), Prophetess of Hearts, Heather, Deia Shanti, Darkrose, windblown (Glad you liked it. ^^ Here's another one.), Walks-the-Umbra, saiko, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, SoulSister, Demeter, Young, Scratches (*Rolls on the floor laughing* You've made my day. Draco's still smarting from the 'helpless and kind of bitchy' comment, however accurate it is. You have my permission to shoot at Pansy at will, but she won't be going down in the story for some time yet. And yes, his surname is Harper.), kristy, Sorceress Jade and Evil Windstar, Wednesday, oracle, S. Maldiva (Draco wouldn't be Draco if he couldn't still grind the boot in on occasion. Pansy has a large role to play yet and the edge of humanity will remain there, I think, but it will grow fairly twisted. Ron is being pushed on all sides to accept Draco, and he's taking it hard. You'll see what happens.), Myr (Harry/Draco is getting very, very close—beginning at the end of the next chapter.)

Apologies to everyone for making you wait so long before this was updated. I'd completely forgotten how much school could cramp writing time. Since it's Year 12 and I'm actually intending to study a bit this year, the time between updates will probably be a bit longer from now on—most likely about three weeks between each.

To answer a question that has been asked a few times lately: I have every intent of completing All Torn Down, and of writing its sequel. I have plans to continue the story until the end of the seventh year, so don't worry. It will just take time.

Thanks to Apocalypse for beta-reading again.

****

All Torn Down: Dawn and Darkness

Hope, in pity mock not Woe

With smiles, nor follow where I go;

Long having lived on thy sweet food,

At length I find one moment's good

After long pain—with all your love,

This you never told me of.

—_Away, Away!_, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Professor McGonagall's note lay folded in Harry's pocket as he and the other young members of the Order faced their instructors. It was a curt summons: time, place, and don't forget.

The time was ten o'clock at night and the place was the transfiguration classroom, which still had not completely recovered from Draco's midnight outburst at the beginning of the year. None of them had forgotten, although Neville was a few minutes late because he had to locate Trevor beforehand.

McGonagall had apparently been elected as spokesperson through some unspoken agreement between the teachers. Behind them, Professor Figg scribbled a ring of sigils into the floor with a stub of white chalk, the desks having been pushed away against the walls. Remus and Mad-Eye Moody were trying to manhandle a large object draped with stained cloth through the door. Snape stood beside Professor McGonagall's desk, scowling at the back wall.

'Professor Dumbledore has asked that you begin your training in the Great Arts. What you learn tonight will be used to defend yourself against a specific enemy.' Professor McGonagall looked none too happy about this. 'You will learn to cast a Patronus, and to brew a truth potion.'

Hermione's brow creased. 'Professor, what—' 

'Keep a hold!' Moody growled as Remus's grip on the object slipped. 'Constant vigilance, you fool!'

They watched the pair grapple the thing into the centre of the ring and stood it up. Hermione tried again as the cloth was removed: 'What are we going to be fighting?'

The cloth fell away. McGonagall's lips tightened. 'A Dementor, Miss Granger.'

And it was: a perfect Dementor, sculpted of stone. Ron gaped in horror.

'No way—we can't fight one of those!'

'You can and will, Mr Weasley,' Snape snapped. 'The Dark Lord is riveted on taking Azkaban and if he does, Dementors will be among the most dangerous creatures you'll come up against. So you can do this now, while you have tutors and wards protecting you, or try to learn in a few years when one of these is descending upon you. Understand?'

Ron glared. 'Yes, sir.'

Snape looked at McGonagall. 'Are you done?'

'Yes.'

'Good. I have cauldrons and ingredients to find.' He disappeared through the door in a billow of black robes.

McGonagall stepped up to the statue, flanked by Mrs Figg. 'This is the only transfigured Dementor in existence. In a moment Professor Figg and I will undo the spell on it. Once it is returned to its original state, you will take turns to step inside the ring and attempt to cast the Patronus. Mr Potter, I understand that you already know the spell, but you will still need to practice. Now—'

'Excuse me…' All eyes swivelled to Draco. It was the first time he had spoken since he entered the room. 'Why don't you just teach us to transfigure it back?'

'It would kiss you before you could cast the spell. The wizard who did this didn't escape from the Dementor's kiss before it took full effect. He spent the rest of his days in St Mungo's Hospital.'

Draco bit his lip. 'Are you sure those sigils will be enough to hold it?'

Professor Figg bristled. 'I would thank you not to question my ability again, Malfoy.' Her brow quirked upwards. 'After all, how do you think the Dementors are kept from leaving Azkaban?'

Draco's eyes widened; Ron gave a low whistle of admiration. 'I see.'

'About time you did. I don't know; children these days have no respect for history. Shall we get started, Minerva?'

Harry had never seen anything like this before. The spell required both women to chant with their wands raised and pointed at the statue. Magic, visible and wafting through the air in shifting colours, drifted between them and settled over the statue's form. Ending the chant, Figg and McGonagall leaped away. A line of darkness formed at the top of the statue and sliced downward, jagged through the luminous colour. More cracks appeared, until the shell of magic exploded away, causing Neville to yell and the rest of them to jump. Motes of light streamed to the edges of the ring and disappearing on impact with the sigils. 

The freed Dementor loomed in the centre of the ring. It turned its hood to face the group outside the ring, and raised one scabbed hand, reaching out to them as though ravenous. Without thinking, the children bunched closer together.

'Right,' said Professor Figg. 'This is how it's done—pay attention!'

She held her wand before her like a weapon, and grimly stepped within the ring. The Dementor immediately turned its attention on her, and began to advance. Figg snarled, and with a maniacal grin cried, '_Expecto patronum_!'

Harry watched a familiar silver mist rush from her wand, rapidly taking the form of a large cat as it raced toward the Dementor. The creature backed away as the Patronus hissed and scratched at it, and sank to the floor in defeat as it moved onto the sigils. Professor Figg stepped calmly away to safety, and the cat vanished.

Ron was the first to be able to utter a sound afterward: 'Whoa...'

To his surprise, Harry saw Draco nod in silent agreement.

'The trick,' Figg said briskly, 'is to concentrate on a happy thought or memory. Remember every detail, remember the charm, and let the Dementor have it. It's very advanced magic—you all know that—so don't be disappointed when you don't get it right the first time around. _Don't_ muck about trying to stay in the ring while the Dementor's getting close to you. Never forget that thing is real—' She paused to point at the creature, which was beginning to collect itself— 'And as dangerous as any in Azkaban. Before you try again, take a Chocolate Frog from Mr Lupin. All right, Miss Granger, go.'

Hermione was trembling as she stepped into the ring. The four professors looked at each other and moved closer in, at the same time gesturing for the children to stay near the walls.

The Dementor turned its hood to her and Hermione went white.

'Expecto—ex—expecto patronum—expecto patronum—' she whispered desperately. 'Expecto patronum...'

The creature drifted towards her, hands outstretched. Hermione yelped—so did Neville—and sprang away from it.

'Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!' A formless cloud of silver drifted from her wand. She shook it wildly and tried again. 'Expecto patronum!'

'You'd better get out of there,' Professor McGonagall said. 'Miss Granger—Hermione—'

'Expecto—' Hermione's legs gave way as she struggled back to the edges of the ring. Mad-Eye Moody reached out and caught her as she fell, dragging her body from the ring.

Ron gave an unintelligible cry and ran over as Remus produced a Chocolate Frog, only to be shooed by Mrs Figg. Slowly the colour returned to Hermione's face and she stood up.

'That was _awful_!'

'Nonsense, you did well for your first time...'

Neville was still shaking, staring at Hermione as she crossed the room to them, then at the Dementor. Draco shot him a disdainful look. 

'Dry up, will you? It's your turn next; how well do you think you'll do facing it like that?'

Neville gulped.

'Leave him alone,' Harry muttered. Draco looked startled, and imperceptibly hurt. He wandered off and stood a few feet away, staring gloomily at the ring. Harry sighed.

'Never mind, Neville,' Ron said. 'You'll do all right, he's only trying to scare you.'

'It worked.' 

Snape entered the room, clanging cauldrons, as Neville moved forward at McGonagall's beckoning. The cauldrons were deposited on the floor, and Neville entered the ring. 

After a few moments spent rooted to the spot and whimpering, he was hauled out again by Professor Figg and given a Chocolate Frog.

Draco snorted. Harry clenched his teeth and walked over to where he was standing.

'Don't you dare laugh.'

Again the startled look, before Draco's expression became closed. 'Why shouldn't I? I know I'll be laughed at when I go into that ring.'

'No, you won't.'

'Really? It's just the sort of entertainment Weasley likes most.'

'I'll step on his foot.'

Draco's eyebrows rose. 'You'd do that for me?'

Harry sighed. 'Don't, Draco. I'm just tired of the way you keep fighting.'

'Ah. So, naturally, we have to stop. Oh, look—they've given him another Frog, lucky boy...'

Harry's eyes flashed. 'Do you know what he was probably being forced to remember just then?'

Draco cast a sideways glance at him. 'Why does it matter? Everyone has bad memories.'

'You don't know why your father makes all those donations to St Mungo's, do you?'

Harry watched the grey eyes slide from his face to watch Neville, who was just beginning to regain composure. Grim realisation dawned in them. Draco gave a heavy sigh. 'What did he do?'

'He tortured Neville's parents. With Cruciatus--he was interrogating them, but they went mad. Neville visits them with his Gran, and...that's probably what he was remembering.'

Draco stared at the floor. 'It doesn't end, does it?' he muttered, then laughed, bitterly. 'At least now I know why everyone treats him like a hero. Poor thing's probably been struggling to cope with that all his life.'

'Malfoy...'

'Do you remember the last meeting of the Order, Harry?' Draco looked up, and the pain in his eyes was so sharp Harry took a step back from it. 'Everyone was so proud of him. Look, Neville had to persuade his Granny to let him go! The soldier of light returning to his post; that's how he was treated.

'They weren't proud of me. _I_ came with the tag of Malfoy; I was born up to my neck in the Dark Side and of course that meant I must be a rat. Of course it did.'

'Draco, I—'

'I was told once that I'm not a Malfoy any more, you know. But if that's true, why does everyone still shut me out because of it?'

'Mr Malfoy! Your turn.' 

Draco looked to where McGonagall was impatiently standing and nodded. Casting a last, melancholy glance at Harry, he went to the ring.

Harry turned slightly and saw Snape watching him, the depths of his black eyes unreadable. A scream rent the air, tearing their attention from each other and to the ring.

Draco was crouched in the centre of the ring, his wand quivering as he pointed it at the Dementor with trembling hands. 'Ex-expecto—expect—patro—expecto—'

The professors were reaching out to him, but he avoided their hands as desperately as he tried to keep away from the looming Dementor. He whirled around and away from them, eyes wild and wide, and pierced with terror.

Harry hurried back to the others, who were watching tensely. Even Ron looked worried.

'I hate to think what he's seeing right now,' Hermione whispered.

Ron crowed. 'Yes, get him, Remus!—Oh, he got away...'

'Why won't he just get out of the ring?' Neville quavered.

'I don't think he realises it's there any more.'

The Dementor was chasing Draco, and he didn't dare take his eyes from it now. He faltered to the centre of the ring, and Harry watched in horror as Draco sank to his knees, beyond the reach of the professors. The Dementor drew close and raised a hand to lift its hood away.

Professor Snape shoved through the knot of teachers around the ring and whirled his wand.

'_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!'

There was a blast of light and a silver rose shot from his wand. It spun around the Dementor, which backed away from the thorns. As it sank down, Remus dived into the circle and pulled Draco out.

As soon as he was out of the chill influence of the Dementor, Draco staggered to his feet and wrestled away from Remus, his face still contorted with terror. The two faced each other tensely. Remus produced a Chocolate Frog and held it out, waiting for Draco to come back to himself and take it.

'No,' Snape growled. He took Draco by the arm and led him away, speaking quietly until the fear evaporated from the youth's expression. Draco spoke, and a short, intense exchange followed.

'Potter, your turn,' McGonagall said. She looked extremely shaken. 'Be careful.'

Harry stepped forward, nerves on edge. _What on earth did it do to Draco?_

'Wait.' Harry paused, looked around at Draco, who took an uncertain step forward. 'I'll try again.'

'Wait until your next turn, Malfoy,' Figg said. 'You can't have fully recovered yet.'

'But—'

'Drop it, boy,' Mad-Eye Moody said. 'You can wait a while before trying that trick again.'

Draco's expression became cold, but Harry had a nasty feeling it was directed inward. He seemed on the verge of arguing, but was wise enough to fall silent under Moody's glare. He backed away into the shadows, watching Harry.

Harry stepped into the ring. A wave of ice crashed over him. The Dementor had fully recovered, and rushed forward. He jumped away and scrambled to the opposite side of the ring, putting as much distance between himself and the creature as possible. As it turned, he felt himself begin to fall through the familiar fog in his mind, and heard the distant screams of his mother, growing louder.

'Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!' _I've done this before, why isn't it working?_ 'Expecto patronum!' _Happy thoughts—happy memories...getting the Firebolt—finding out about Prongs—being allowed into Hogsmeade—Dudley's face when he swallowed the Ton-Tongue Toffee—_

—Draco's lips, and the caress of his hand, and the way his eyes shone just for that moment...the way he healed me in the examination...tried to get Sirius not to go to the Underground...silver hair with a tinge of green potion—

The thoughts, memories, and suppressed emotions swelled up inside of Harry with all the force of floodwater breaking against a dam wall. He let them come. 

'_Expecto patronum_!'

Prongs shot from the tip of his wand in a blaze of silver, galloping at the Dementor with his head down. The creature shrank back and fell to the floor at the edge of the ring, shaking. 

The silver stag turned to face Harry with calm, knowing eyes. Harry lifted his hand, as he had before, to touch it. As had happened that night in his third year, Prongs vanished under his fingertips.

Flushed and trembling from the rush of memories, Harry stepped out of the ring and wandered away. The room was silent around him, until Professor Figg said in a subdued voice, 'Mr Weasley, it's your turn. Well done, Potter.'

Harry barely heard her. Ron looked at him in consternation as he passed.

'You all right, Harry?'

He nodded and continued to where the others were watching.

'That was amazing,' Neville muttered. Harry grunted.

Hermione frowned. 'Is something wrong?'

'Hm?' Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind. 'No. I just realised something, that's all.'

He glanced across the room to the shadow-strewn wall opposite where Draco watched the rest of the room with dull eyes, hunched beside a desk. On impulse, Harry crossed over to him. His gaze shifted and focussed on Harry as he came close.

'Brilliant,' Draco said, voice flat. 'Absolutely amazing. Well done, Harry Potter.'

'Draco, I...'

He gave a sudden, sorrowful smile. 'You're always ahead, aren't you? You just can't help it, you've got to be always that little bit in front of me...'

'I've done it before.'

'I know. But...nevertheless...' Draco's gaze strayed to the silvery glow in the air behind him. Harry turned, seeing Ron in the centre of a cloud of Patronus mist, repeating the spell, his face set. The Dementor seemed to be having a little trouble with the mist, but it still managed to force its way to him. Ron tried to step around it, but it was too close. He sprang away from its reaching hands, landing outside the border of the ring. 'He's doing well, too. I never got that far.'

Hermione stepped up for her second attempt.

'I fainted the first time I tried to fight one of these.' Draco grunted, and Harry sighed. 'Will you come back over to the rest of us?'

'Why bother?'

'Why not?' Harry countered. His tone softened, just a little. 'You don't need to keep isolating yourself, Draco.'

A blaze of silver; not from any Patronus but burning in Draco's eyes. 'Isolating _myself_? Harry—' He paused, and the angry light faded from his eyes. He sighed. 'Never mind. You couldn't understand...' There was a rush of light from the ring. Hermione's Patronus was struggling to take form. 'Why do you want me there?'

'Dumbledore wanted us to work together. How can we do that if we can't be together?'

Draco gave a devious grin. 'Is that an invitation?'

'Not _that_ kind. You know what I mean.'

The smile dropped away, leaving only bitterness. 'Of course I do.' Hermione stumbled from the ring, swiftly replaced with Neville. 'All right. To make you happy.'

Harry smiled, and held out a hand to help him up. Draco ignored it, and stood on his own. He moved slightly ahead of Harry, who followed, noticing the flare of dislike in Ron's expression as he caught sight of them. Hermione was still recovering from the cold projected by the Dementor, and Harry wished he'd waited for her to come back before throwing the two enemies together. 

'Nice stunt you pulled, Malfoy.'

'Well your mist was very pretty, but it didn't do much, did it?'

Ron shrugged. '_I_ knew when to get out of the ring.'

'You ran away.'

Ron flushed, and he snapped around, glaring at Draco. 'You—'

'Leave off, both of you,' Harry muttered. 'Please. It's your turn, Draco. Good luck.'

Draco gave a curt nod and walked away. Ron turned to Harry.

'What did you bring him over here for?'

Harry bit his lip, taken aback by his friend's anger. 'It's not good for him to be alone. Dumbledore asked us all to work together.'

'And he seemed very eager to cooperate just then, didn't he?'

'He was defending himself! You were the one who started that argument, Ron.' Harry's anger rose on Draco's behalf as Ron rolled his eyes. 'Listen to me. Draco was watching you before and he said you were doing _well_!'

Ron stared, disbelieving, and slumped back against the wall. They gazed ahead in tense silence, tied up in their own thoughts.

'What's wrong?' Hermione's voice jolted them back into awareness. She glanced from one to the other in concern.

Ron shrugged, sighed. 'Nothing, really. Just a little argument.'

Her brow arched. 'Having a lover's tiff without me, Ron? That's hardly fair.'

Harry grinned as his friend turned bright red and muttered a feeble defence. Hermione laughed, her arms flying about his neck. Ron pulled her close, ears still flaming. 'That wasn't fair.'

'No, but it was fun.'

'That's no excu—' Ron's voice trailed off as he raised his eyes to the ring. 'Wow...'

Harry followed his gaze and gasped; Hermione, twisting her head to see what was going on, did the same. Neville, who was halfway back across the room from his last foray with the beast, caught their expressions and turned sharply.

Draco stood in the centre of the ring, silvery mist issuing from the tip of his wand. It flickered around him. His wand was lowered, and his eyes closed. Harry glanced at the Dementor, drifting slowly closer to him—savouring the moment, probably—and felt the stirring of panic somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

'Draco...'

The odd thing was that he looked perfectly calm; there was even a small smile playing across his face. He raised the wand slightly, and the mist gathered in front of him, strengthening and fighting to take shape.

'Did you even hear him cast the spell?'

'He was muttering the words when he went into the ring,' Hermione said. 'But that...surely he couldn't cast a full Patronus just like...'

'Oh no.' Ron's chin sank onto Hermione's shoulder. He glared at Draco with a perplexed kind of resentment.

'What is it?'

'He's blushing. I know exactly what he's thinking about.'

The Dementor drew closer, but the mist gathered and lashed out, not strong enough to drive it away but enough to make it pause. Harry stared, and realised there was a pink stain to Draco's cheeks.

'The kiss,' he guessed.

'Yes, the damn kiss. You'd think he'd get past it.'

Harry glanced at his friend. 'We're going to have to talk soon, Ron.'

'What about?'

'I'll tell you later.'

The Dementor was getting close again. Draco raised his wand fully and opened his eyes. He whispered the words, and his Patronus took form. Harry blinked.

'A woman?' Ron frowned. 'I thought he couldn't stand them...'

The figure strode forward with majestic grace and calmly slapped the Dementor. It fell to the floor, and scuttled away. The figure turned, and Harry saw a familiar face and an unfamiliar smile before the Patronus vanished.

'It's his mother.'

Draco stepped out of the ring. He didn't glance at the dumbstruck professors around him, but did raise his eyes as Harry came over for his next turn.

'I did it once, too. Years ago.'

The clandestine lesson went on, and Harry found that casting the Patronus grew steadily more easy the more he did it; not that he paid much attention. He was far more concerned with Draco and his strengthening Patronus, and Ron's reaction to it. While Hermione and Neville both continued to struggle, Ron set himself to controlling the Patronus mist he cast. By the time the activity was called to a halt at midnight, he too had accomplished a weak form of defence against the Dementor.

From outside the ring, Professor Figg and Professor McGonagall cast the charms necessary to return the creature to its stone form, as the exhausted students faced Snape. They were each given a cauldron and a set of ingredients.

'Truth serums are among the most complex, powerful and useful potions you will ever brew,' Snape began. 'I suggest you remember how to do this once you have learned it—and _pay attention_. I don't want to see another spectacle like that—' he glared at Neville, who had chosen an inopportune moment to yawn widely, '—For the rest of the night. What you will be making tonight is a lesser form of Veritaserum.'

'Sir—'

'What is it, Weasley?'

'How is this supposed to help us against Dementors?'

Snape leaned against the teacher's desk, arms folded. 'No doubt you think a truth potion is only good for interrogation and security. In fact it has a range of uses beyond that, not the least of which is its ability to thwart Dementors. I don't suppose any of you knows what it is that a Dementor does to the human mind?'

Even Hermione looked baffled at that. Snape sighed.

'They interrogate _you_. Moreover, they do it aggressively, sending only one question directly into the root of your brain and answering it for you. That question is: is it worth being alive? By calling forth your worst memories, the Dementor persuades you not. A truth serum will at least level the playing field by allowing you to remember pleasant things as well. Of course,' Snape stole a quick glance at Draco; 'If you have more bad memories than good, you may be better off without it. Never use a truth serum when you are near enemies, and always remember that it does not make you invulnerable to the Dementor's kiss. Are there any more questions?'

'Some of these herbs are quite dangerous,' Hermione said. 'Are you sure we should be using them?'

'We couldn't get the work done without them. They'll do no harm if treated correctly _what is it, Longbottom_?'

Neville started at the sudden, dangerous drop in Snape's tone, and retracted the hand that had been timidly swaying in the air. 'Y-you said this was going to be complicated...'

'You should be fine if you do exactly what I tell you—something that applies to all potions, and which you have failed to learn even after four and a half years in my class. You might do well to drag yourself out of that dream world of yours for once.'

Neville grew pale, muttering, 'Yes sir.'

'In case something happens, I will be the one testing the potions. I've already taken several antidotes, and I won't touch anything that is so much as a shade the wrong colour. Also, if anyone asks me anything embarrassing while I'm under the influence, I'll have you all cleaning the Potions classroom for a month. Understood? Good. We have little time; let's get on with it.'

Snape's instructions were terse and he kept a watchful eye on the little group, although apparently not watchful enough given that Neville's potion began to darken around the same time everyone else's grew lighter in colour. The other professors watched from a distance, not interfering.

As he shredded root of this and chopped liver of that, Harry found his attention drifting from the Potions Master. His gaze began to fall consistently on Draco, whose head was bent over his work so that most of his face was indiscernible. He worked quickly and precisely, occasionally glancing up at his instructor for approval. Harry became entranced by the fluid movement of Draco's hands as they prepared the potion. His ears grew warm at the thought of what else they might be deft at.

'Potter, if you don't watch what you're doing you'll be wiping the potion off your face.'

'Yes sir.'

Harry turned back to his work, but found himself a few critical steps behind. He glanced at Ron for guidance, but the muttered query ran silent on his lips. Ron worked with an almost savage haste, and kept his eyes continually flicked in Draco's direction, revealing a tumult of emotions. Harry saw anger, resentment, and frustration; there was bewilderment somewhere amid his friend's apparent rage. The turmoil disappeared the instant Ron registered Harry's gaze. He grinned.

'Stuck?'

Harry nodded, grateful that Snape was occupied with a shaking Neville and wouldn't see his mistake. 'I completely forgot what he said to do after we add the newts' tails.'

'Well, first you stir for a bit; then you need to add the shredded bushy stuff Hermione said was dangerous.'

'Right.' Harry began to slosh the potion around, at the same time reaching for a handful of herbs.

'Only you've got to let the potion settle first because otherwise it'll—'

_Boom._

'...Do that.' Ron coughed as dusky blue smoke poured from Harry's cauldron.

The smoke, unfortunately, was not thick enough to veil the sight of Snape looming suddenly in front of him. 

'Congratulations, Mr Potter. You, for the first time, have managed to beat Longbottom in a contest of sheer idiocy.' The Potions Master sniffed, apparently unaffected by the fumes. 'Go and clean yourself and the cauldron up. Now.'

The end of Snape's speech was marked by a glare at the other professors, as though daring them to undermine him and come to Harry's defence. Harry carried his cauldron from the room before anyone could say a thing. He could do with a moment alone, anyway.

There was a seldom-used boys' bathroom not far from the transfiguration room. Harry pushed the door open and wandered inside.

The place was rarely used because it was rarely cleaned—Filch wouldn't go anywhere Mrs Norris feared to tread, and for some reason the cat refused to enter this bathroom. Hence, the thick cobwebs that graced the walls, the dirty floor, and the doors hanging from broken hinges with all the tenacity of a dead fish.

The taps still worked, though.

Harry washed his smoke-stained face, then set to work on the cauldron. Charred ingredients had stuck to its base, and it was filled with a black, gungy sort of fluid. The liquid disappeared down the sink, and, lacking any kind of rag, Harry began to scrape the rest of the muck off with his fingers.

The work didn't need much thought, so Harry found his mind drifting again, to Ron. He chewed his lip. 

_What am I to tell you?_ He recalled the burning anger in Ron's eyes, directed solely at Draco. _...And how can I stop you from hurting him—even more than he already has been?_

His thoughts drifted a little further, to something more pleasant.

The whine of the door opening made Harry turn. Neville stepped into the room, sporting a blackened face and steaming cauldron. He shrugged, grimacing.

'I lasted out longer than usual, anyway.'

Harry smiled, gave an absent nod. He was still thinking about other things. Neville stepped up beside him to wash his face, then fixed him with an old-fashioned look.

'Why are you doing it like that?'

'Don't have anything to scrub with.'

'Oh.' Neville took out his wand. 'Wouldn't it be easier to do it this way?'

Harry stared at the wand as though it had sprouted leaves, and laughed. 'I'm an idiot, aren't I?'

'Maybe you just had your mind on other things.'

Harry nodded, reaching for his own wand. 'A bit, yes.'

'Thinking about a girl?'

'No…why?'

Neville shrugged. 'You had that sort of look on your face; that's all. _Purgare_.'

'It's that easy to tell, is it?' Harry muttered.

'Well, obviously not.' Harry looked bewildered, so Neville added, 'Since you _weren't_ thinking about a girl, I mean.'

'Ah. Yes. Right…' Harry glanced back at the cauldron and raised his wand. '_Purgare_.'

'So what were you thinking about?' Neville asked as they picked up their clean cauldrons and moved out of the bathroom again.

'Nothing important.'

'Just something very, very nice,' Neville grinned. 'Are you sure it wasn't Cho?'

'You couldn't be more wrong.'

Neville seemed a little surprised at that. He remained silent as they made their way back down the passage to the Transfiguration classroom.

The others, apparently, had finished. Snape was speaking to them all in a low, even voice. He paused as Neville and Harry entered the classroom, and nodded for them to take their places.

'We've just been talking about the differences between true Veritaserum and this form—I'm not going through that again; the two of you will just have to watch. Incidentally, I expect you both to have made the correct potion be the end of the week; yes, Longbottom, I know you'll need help. Miss Granger can show you what to do. As for you, Potter—you can see Draco.'

'Professor,' Hermione said quickly; 'I'm sure I can—'

'Can do what? Tutor both? I doubt it very much, Granger, as aware of your abilities as I am. You and Mr Longbottom can use the Potions classroom on Wednesday night; Draco and Mr Potter can have it on Sunday night.'

'But, sir…' Draco said, the urgency of his tone catching Harry's attention more than the actual protest.

'Yes?'

'I can't—'

'You _will_.' Snape retrieved a small bottle of potion and an equally small cup from a pocket in his robes. 'This is an antidote to the potion, so that we don't have to wait hours tonight for each dose to wear off. Once I've made sure all of these actually work, you're all to take a bottle from the desk here, fill it, and keep it. The potion will still work a year from now.'

Snape dipped the cup into Draco's potion first. There was a moment of expectant silence after he swallowed it.

'Well,' he snapped. 'Are you going to ask me something or not? That's the only way to be sure it works.'

Harry was surprised that Snape was still capable of normal speech under the potion—that would never happen with Veritaserum. Draco didn't bat an eyelid, however.

'What does the Order of the Phoenix have to do with the Headmaster's bird?'

'The Order of the Phoenix was formed in secrecy against the leagues of Lord Voldemort at the height of his power. Complete trust between its members was needed to ensure the security of the Order, and a phoenix can draw the line between good and evil with far greater accuracy than any Sneak-o-scope. Fawkes stayed by any new member of the Order and would alert the rest if he sensed any hint of untrustworthiness. He no longer serves that purpose as all the members have now proven, one way or the other, their commitment to the Order.' Snape paused. 'Well done, Draco. A pertinent question, and your potion works.'

Snape took a swig of the antidote, and then a cupful of Hermione's potion.

'Have you ever been inside Azkaban?'

'Yes. When I turned myself in as a Death Eater, the Ministry insisted on placing me in confinement there until I had proven the truth of my loyalty.'

Snape nodded, sipped at the antidote, and moved on to Ron's cauldron. Ron shifted uncomfortably.

'I don't know what to ask.' Harry, seeing his eyes slide towards McGonagall, stifled a chuckle. He knew what Ron _wanted_ to ask.

'You'd better think of something quickly, then, Weasley. I'm not waiting all night.'

Ron looked at Harry, helpless. Harry shrugged and turned to the Potions Master, thinking fast.

'Why do you hate me?'

Snape stared at him. 'I don't hate you, Potter. I did when you first arrived at Hogwarts, because you seemed so much like your father. You know how that goes. My hatred has ebbed since then. You infuriate me. You have a good mind, but fail so often to use it. You are brave enough to stand up to Lord Voldemort, but let smaller things stand in your way every day. And you are the hero of a generation for doing something you don't even understand nor wholly remember, when others like me have spent years working against the Death Eaters with no recognition at all.'

'Good question,' Ron muttered as Snape emptied the bottle of its antidote. Harry realised he was gaping, and closed his mouth.

_Better answer,_ he thought.

'Well done, those of you who managed to complete the work.' Snape's voice was subdued. 'The potions work extremely well. Fill a bottle each as I said, and we can all go.'

By the time each of them had taken their share of truth serum, most of the potion was gone. Snape used a spell to evaporate the rest and carried the cauldrons away without a word. 

As the rest of the group trickled out into the corridor, Remus approached Harry and Neville.

'Don't be too worried about the potion. The first time I tried it, the floorboards had to be replaced.'

The teachers disappeared one by one down the passages to their own rooms for the night, until only the children were left, with Snape ploughing ahead on route to the dungeons.

'Why did you ask Snape that question, Harry?' Ron said.

Harry shrugged. 'It was the first thing that came into my head.'

'Well, you certainly ruffled him.'

'I know. I need to ask him something else now. See you at the tower.' Harry pelted up the corridor without waiting for a reply. 'Pro—'

'Yes, Potter?'

Harry slowed to a walk beside the Potions Master. 'How did you know it was me?'

'No one else in that group would be foolish enough to come after me when I'm in such a foul mood and trying to carry five cauldrons at once. Since you were, however...' He held out two of the cauldrons, which Harry took. 'What did you want?'

'Why can't Hermione show me how to make the potion?'

Snape stopped abruptly, and glared at him. 'What is so terribly wrong with Draco?'

'Nothing,' Harry said, taken aback. 'I mean...it's just...'

'Just what?' They began walking again, and descended a flight of stairs. Snape sneered. 'Afraid of the truth, Potter?'

'Not any more, no,' Harry snapped.

'Then there's no problem, is there?'

'Yes, there is! Draco doesn't want to do it, and you know that.' They descended another flight.

'Of course I know. I also know why he doesn't want to do it, but you don't. Do you?' Harry gave a bewildered shake of his head. Snape adjusted the weight of the cauldrons in his hands, sighing. 'Since he kissed you—' He gave an exasperated hiss as Harry looked at the floor, trying not to blush so much. 'Stop being so damned coy about it, Potter. Has Draco made any move on you since then?'

'No...'

'Exactly. In fact, he's been avoiding you. I don't suppose you could hazard a guess as to why?'

Harry bit his lip, trying to think clearly. 'Not really.'

Snape's pace quickened until Harry had to run to keep up, cauldrons clanking together. They reached the potions classroom, and Snape dumped the cauldrons into an open cupboard. Harry followed his example.

'He's afraid.'

Harry spun around. 'Sorry?'

'Draco. He's afraid of being near you. He's terrified that he'll lose control again, and do something more to isolate himself. So he avoids you.'

'That makes no sense.'

'It does to him. I know he's stronger than that, but he needs to work it out for himself. That's why I'm throwing you together.'

'I see.' Harry wandered toward the door as Snape turned away.

'There is a Death Eater meeting on the same night. Draco will probably arrive already...costumed.'

'Is there any other night we can—?'

'No.'

He nodded and left, making his way through the darkened corridors by the light of his wand, floating in a miasma of emotions. When he reached the Gryffindor common room, the place was dark and silent, so he went straight upstairs to the boys' dormitory.

Harry cupped one hand around his wand as he stepped into the dormitory, listening carefully in case he'd woken anyone coming in. The only sounds were soft, peaceful snores.

He'd hoped that Ron and Hermione would wait in the common room, giving him a chance to corner Ron about Draco. Apparently, though, the lesson had overcome them. He would have to try tomorrow.

Harry opened his trunk to look for his pyjamas. As he fumbled about in the shadowy corners, he grasped the edge of a familiar book. With a soft smile, Harry drew it out, and stared at the red-leather cover.

Dobby had presented him with this book on Christmas Day, along with a pair of perfectly mismatched socks, but he'd grown shifty as soon as Harry asked where he'd found it. It was only later that Harry had found the tiny initials; 'D. M.' marked in a corner of the inside cover. Draco had probably forgotten they were even there.

He flipped through the book, pausing now and again to trace the lettering of a charm. He turned to the last page.

This, here, was what had first made him wonder about the grimoire's origins. It was a longer incantation than the rest, with a few lines of English printed before the spell itself:

'_A bond unseen cast between_

Two souls who never may part;

A spoken word softly heard:

A hand around the heart.'

It was a love spell. It sounded like an emotional form of Imperius.

Draco had given it to him.

__

'...He's terrified that he'll lose control again, and do something more...'

But he hadn't, had he? Draco had given the book to him...in case. Just in case.

Harry closed the book and placed it back inside the trunk. After a little more rummaging he located his pyjamas and went into the bathroom to change. Then, he dulled the light of his wand and tumbled into bed, happy to relinquish his thoughts to slumber.

~~~*~~~

Harry was still drifting somewhere near the borders of Dreamland when he heard from across the room a grunt, a groan and Ron cursing in a voice thick with fatigue. It began to occur to him that he might have to wake up soon, and he mumbled something in vague protest, trying to settle into another dream.

A sharp prod in the ribs caused him to yell; he flailed out automatically and one hand connected with someone else's face. Grumbling, he sat up.

'That was unwarranted,' Seamus muttered.

'Was bloody not,' Ron retorted, wiping his face. Dean was by his bed, holding a wet towel in one hand and grinning. 'What do you two think you're doing, waking us up like that? It must be—'

'Eight in the morning. You have nearly no time before lessons start; we let you sleep in so long. What did you two get up to last night—and Neville? None of you were back before curfew, and then he was rattling about again at dawn like nothing happened.'

Harry and Ron looked at each other. They hadn't quite worked this part out yet.

'Er...'

'Hermione, ah, dragged us off to study in the Library.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed eagerly. 'For the O.W.L.s. You know.'

Dean frowned. 'The library wouldn't be open so late. And the tests aren't until next term anyway.'

'Would that stop Hermione?'

'Good point.'

'Anyhow...' Seamus cast Ron a devious look. 'She hardly has to drag _you_ anywhere, does she?'

Ron reddened, muttered something only half-heard, and fled to the bathroom. Smirking a bit, Seamus and Dean traipsed downstairs.

In the rush to get to classes in time, all thought of talking to Ron was shoved into a corner of Harry's mind. The morning raced by, packed with Transfiguration notes and falsehoods concocted in Trelawney's tower. It wasn't until Harry saw Draco ducking into the Great Hall near the end of lunch that his memory moved into gear.

'Ron...' he said, and then paused to nudge his friend, who was giving Neville an animated speech on the merits of the Chudley Cannons while sacrificing his shoulder as a pillow for Hermione's drowsy head. 

'They're really good players when you think about it; it's just they always run into a bit of bad luck—'Ron paused, looking at him quizzically.

'About that talk...'

'Which...? Oh. 'Scuse me, Neville.' Ron shifted to face Harry more fully, causing Hermione to stir for a second before lowering her head again. 'What about it?'

'It's—well, it's private.'

'Okay, we'll go find somewhere deserted then, eh, 'Mione?' Hermione mumbled something into his shoulder. Ron smiled, putting an arm around her. 'You'd better not make a habit of late-night studying, if it knocks you out this much.'

'Not Hermione,' Harry said quickly. 'I just need to talk to you for a bit.'

'Oh.' Bewilderment began to rise in Ron's eyes. 'Look, what's this all about, Harry? You look wound up as a watch.'

'It's sort of about Malfoy.'

'Sort of?'

Harry sighed. 'All right, it's mostly about Malfoy.'

Ron's face darkened. His arm tightened a little around Hermione. 'Harry, I really don't want to—'

'Please? It's important.'

'What can be so terribly important about—'

'Ron.' The warning note in Hermione's voice as she raised her head pulled him up short. 'Try listening before coming to conclusions, hmm?'

Ron withdrew his arm and clenched his fists on the table. 'I just don't want to hear any more about that git than I already have this year. I've got to deal with him in Care of Magical Creatures next, you know.'

'No...' Hermione glanced around at the various students and teachers who were beginning to journey en masse toward the huge doors at the front of the Hall and got to her feet, rubbing at one sleep-filled eye. 'You have to deal with him _now_. You'll both have to wait until later. Come on.'

The four of them—in spite of Ron's disgruntlement over Ginny, Neville was spending more time around the tight-knit group than ever before—marched out into the grounds to meet Hagrid with the rest of the class.

Ron had picked up the habit, lately, of staying as near to Harry and Hermione during Care of Magical Creatures as possible, until Hagrid announced it was time for the class to split into their pairings. Then he would dawdle over to the tree where Draco would already be, trying to coax the imps from the branches long enough to perform whatever ministrations happened to be required for the lesson. Ron always made a point of getting his imp to perch on his shoulder, while Draco struggled to catch his own.

This time, when the class was split up, he ambled straight over to the tree. With a dark look at Draco, he leaned forward, parted the branches, and plucked both imps from the bough they were on. He dumped the black one into Draco's hands. 

Harry, who was watching from the corner of his eye as he and Hermione struggled with their own charges, saw the uncertain gratitude in Draco's expression—which grew shuttered when Ron spoke a few words. He sighed.

'I don't think it will work, you know.'

'Hm? What won't?'

Hermione was darting about their tree, trying to catch a glimpse of her imp. 'Talking to him. You're going to try to stop him fighting with Malfoy, aren't you?'

'That's...part of it, yes.'

She threw him an odd look. 'All right...'

'Like I said,' he crouched down to look for his speckled-grey imp; 'It's private.'

'I still don't think it will work. I've tried before.'

'Have you?'

'Yes. I had a talk with Ron about it a while ago and he did say he'd try, but that's fallen apart on him, apparently.'

'Damn.' Harry saw a rustle of movement amongst the thickest leaves. His hand shot out, catching both imps. They'd been huddled together on a branch. He handed Hermione's over. 'Why can't they just let be?'

'Having to work together in these lessons can't be helping.'

'Some people might think they'd make an effort because of it.'

She sighed. 'Why should they? I think there's something you're missing, Harry. Ron and Malfoy are natural enemies. They always have been, and before it didn't matter. It's just that Ron's the antagonist now—that's what bothers you, isn't it?'

'I suppose so.'

'I hope you were going to talk to Draco as well.'

Harry's ears went red. 'Yeah. I was going to have a word with him soon; I just wanted to speak with Ron first. Um, what are we supposed to be doing here? I didn't hear a word Hagrid said.'

'We're looking for eggs on the leaves.'

'Oh.'

Harry spent the rest of the lesson with his attention divided unevenly between the search for imp eggs—which was more difficult than it seemed since they were camouflaged to suit the colours of the leaves—and watching Ron and Draco. Stony silence had fallen on the pair, and they barely looked at one another. Harry wasn't sure whether that was an improvement on their arguing or not.

The final lesson of the day was Magical Healing. The relief that Harry felt at having Ron and Draco separated again was short-lived, however. 

Professor Fletcher had begun teaching them about curse antidotes a day or two ago. He chose this lesson to give them their first trial against basic hexes, and paired the class off—Harry was sent to work with Seamus, and with a feeling of dread, he saw Draco take a seat beside Ron. Both were glowering.

'They'll have a ball this lesson,' Seamus sniggered, following Harry's worried gaze. 'An unrivalled opportunity to maim each other without getting into trouble—pity they'll have to heal each other too.'

'Mm.'

'Let's see, what's first...' Seamus glanced up at the list of spells Fletcher had written on the blackboard, and winced. 'Harry, this is going to sting. I'm really sorry.'

Gradually, they managed to work halfway down the list. Professor Fletcher had a habit of getting excited and prescribing more work than was actually possible for most of the class to accomplish. 

It was a wonder Harry and Seamus didn't encounter any major mishaps, given the amount of attention Harry paid to what was going on. At one point, Seamus was forced to tell Harry three times in the space of five minutes which antidote they were supposed to be working on—and the boils on Harry's face grew all the while, unnoticed. By him, anyway.

Finally, the lesson ended and the class began to file out. Harry spotted Draco, head bent low, at the head of the column of students, and Ron not far behind, glowering. Harry tried to push closer to the door, but he was only shoved back by a couple of Slytherins. Hermione and Neville were somewhere behind him.

A second later there was an unearthly roar ahead of them. There were a few screams, and the knot of children at the door suddenly scattered. Harry hurried toward the doorway, elbowed his way past the few remaining students there, and suddenly halted.

'Good grief.' Professor Fletcher's voice sounded softly near Harry's ear. It was a good phrase to use.

Both Ron and Draco had hit the floor, and were fighting savagely upon it. The air grew swollen with cries and grunts of pain, fleshy thuds, and fervent swearing. It was impossible to see who had started it. Blood was smeared on both pairs of fists and both faces.

'All right,' Fletcher quavered. 'Stand aside, everyone—stand back! Right. Now, this should do it...' He raised his wand and shook back the sleeves of his robes in preparation, drew a deep breath and— 'Dean Thomas! Get back! I said get out of there at once—damn!'

Dean had plunged into the melee and was squirming around the pair. He grasped Draco's wrist, but was immediately thrown off as the connecting fist ripped into Ron. Seamus stepped in on the other side.

'Fine,' Fletcher muttered. 'If it's going to be this way...'

Harry heard a hiss by his other ear. 'I don't know which of them I want to kill more,' Hermione growled. She moved forward and joined Seamus in trying to capture Ron.

Harry shook himself. He stepped around to grab at the less mobile bits of Draco.

'This is hopeless,' Dean grunted beside him. 'We're never going to prise them apart. Help!' A whirling arm caught Dean on the side of the face, sending him sprawling on the floor for a moment. He launched himself at Draco, catching the boy around the midsection. 'Get—back—you—bastard! What's Fletcher doing?'

Harry glanced over. 'He's casting a spell, I think. It's not getting them apart, though.'

'He'd better hurry up.'

Eventually Neville and an anonymous Slytherin joined in separating Ron and Draco. Even with three people on each side, the two could barely be kept apart.

'Thank goodness,' Dean panted. 'I thought they were trying to kill each other.'

Harry nodded, raising his head to see the huddle keeping Ron from plunging forward again. He froze. There was a figure rapidly moving down the hall from the direction of the dungeons. From the look on Hermione's face, trouble was coming the other way as well.

'Ah, here we go,' Professor Fletcher said, tucking his wand away.

'MR MALFOY!'

'MR WEASLEY!'

Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall came into view, moving from opposite directions. Each hauled one bloodied student to his feet.

'FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!'

'FIFTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!'

'DETENTION—'

'—FOR A WEEK!'

The professors paused, glared at one another, and dragged their respective charges away, leaving the scattered crowd staring after them.

'What was that about?' Seamus breathed.

'What,' Dean said. 'Do you mean the fight, or the break-up?'

'I don't think you want to know the answer to either,' Harry said, staring after Draco. The silver-blond head turned to glare behind him at Ron's disappearing back. Angry tears had left sparkling tracks down his face.

Harry's heart sank. He knew who'd started the fight.

~~~*~~~

Ron and Draco were both kept in the Hospital Wing overnight. In the morning, Harry followed guiltily behind Hermione when she went to visit Ron. He hovered in the doorway as she went to Ron's bed. He knew he ought to go to Ron, but wanted instead to comfort Draco, who was in the next bed.

Hermione folded her arms. 'Should I fuss all over you, or lecture you about being such an idiot?'

'Neither,' Ron mumbled. 'Pomfrey did both all night. I'm exhausted.'

She leaned forward. 'It _was_ a stupid thing to do, Ron.'

'Tell him that! He threw the first punch.'

Draco sat up. 'You were waiting for it! And you deserved it. Don't you dare _ever_ say that about my mother again!'

'That's enough.' Hermione pushed Ron back into the mattress and moved a hand to do the same for Draco, but he flinched away. Ron's mouth twisted a little. Harry had the sudden, awful urge to hit him.

Hermione, who hadn't noticed, bent down to help Ron up. She paused to give him a kiss. Draco watched them for a moment, then caught Harry's eye. They both looked away, flushing. Draco rolled over.

'See you, Malfoy.' Ron sat up, with a little aid from Hermione, and slipped out of bed.

Cold silence; then: 'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'For...not saying what it was really about.'

Ron was only confused for a second. 'Don't expect it to happen again.'

At Draco's bitter laugh, Harry turned and walked out of the room. He counted his steps carefully, to keep his mind from anything else. Once outside the Hospital Wing, he ran.

Harry avoided Ron for the rest of the day. He stayed as far away as possible and when he couldn't avoid being nearby, he refused to speak.

A day extended into the rest of the week. Harry tried to ignore the hurt looks Ron gave him, and the perplexed ones he was gaining from the rest of Gryffindor. Every time Hermione tried to ask him what was wrong, he'd change the subject or walk away.

It was terrible. He wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer.

Harry was sitting in the common room apparently embroiled in a Charms textbook (a small, red-leather volume was tucked between the pages), when Ron approached him directly.

'Harry?'

'Hmm.'

'What's up?'

'Nothing.'

'Don't give me that.' Ron snatched the textbook away. Harry grabbed for Draco's grimoire and slipped it into his pocket, glaring at his friend. 'What's wrong?'

'It doesn't matter.'

Ron heaved an exasperated sigh. 'Fine. Do you still want to have that talk you were so keen on before? Or doesn't that matter, as well?' Harry said nothing. Ron took him by the wrist. 'Come on. No one's in the dorms right now.'

Harry allowed himself to be led upstairs with a feeling of dread. He followed Ron into the dormitory and closed the door. His hand rested on the knob for a moment. What if someone burst in? What if he just ran out of here and forgot all about it?

'Come on, Harry.' Ron sat on his bed. Harry sat opposite, and covered his mouth with his hands. He felt sick. Ron looked alarmed. 'Are you all right?'

'It's about Draco,' he managed.

'I know. You told me before, remember?'

Harry closed his eyes. 'Why do you hate him so much?'

'You did once, too.'

'I know. But this year—'

'It's no different.'

Harry's eyes snapped open at Ron's rough tone. 'Yes, it is!'

'It isn't! I don't know how you put up with him—_you_ were the one he took advantage of, and he still won't stop—'

'Ron—'

'Every time we're in Care of Magical Creatures, I catch him watching you with that _look_ in his eyes. He's probably going to try again, the little—'

'So that's it,' Harry said quietly. Ron stopped. 'You hate him because he's gay.'

'No!' Ron looked at his hands. 'I mean—not exactly. Really. He probably thinks I do, but...no. I don't like it, but...'

'Then what is it? Just that he's Malfoy?'

'No, it's...it's...'

'He's not as bad this year. Don't tell me he is. He's changed too much for you not to have noticed.'

Ron nodded. 'I know. Still...'

'What is it you hate most about him, then--that he's a Malfoy, or that he's gay? I don't see what other problem you can have.'

Ron raked his fingers through his hair. 'Why does it have to be you?'

'Sorry?'

'Why does it have to be you? If it he'd just let be, if he went after someone else—I couldn't care less. But it's you he wants, and he won't stop. How dare he—he had no right to push his perverse desires on you like that, and he's still—he still wants—!'

'Yes,' Harry snapped. 'How dare he try to find some pleasure in a world that's just fallen around his ears? Preposterous!'

Ron looked him square in the eye. 'I think you should keep away from him, Harry. I really think he's going to try again.'

Harry drew a breath, wondering when the famous Gryffindor courage had deserted him. He looked at the floor to avoid seeing Ron's reaction. 'What if I want him to?'

A rush of air expelled itself from Ron's lungs. Harry looked up, timidly. His friend had fallen back on the bed and covered his face with his hands.

'Bloody hell.'

'Is that all you're going to say?'

'What about Cho?'

Harry's fingers curled in the blanket. 'I don't think she's really interested—and nor am I, any more.'

'He got to you.'

'No. _I_ got to _him_. That's how all this started.'

'I'm not even going to ask why.' Ron sat up, eyeing Harry warily. 'So why did you come to me first? If you want him, why haven't you done anything?'

'I want Draco.' He coloured a little. 'I want him a lot, actually. But I'm not going to do anything if it means losing my best friend. Can you put up with him? Please?'

Ron stood up, looking as though he was unsure of how to walk properly. He took a few steps toward the door and turned back to Harry, face troubled. 'I don't know. I need to think.'

He turned away again, and the door clicked behind him. Harry curled up on the bed, worrying his lower lip. _At least he isn't actually angry, yet._

It was the 'yet' that bothered him.

~~~*~~~

Sunday night came, and Ron still didn't know. Harry had a feeling that he wanted to see whether Draco—or himself, he allowed—_did_ take the opportunity that had been given them that night.

Harry lay in bed awake and still in his robes, listening to the rest of the dormitory slowly fall asleep. When he counted three sets of snores and silence from Seamus, he got up, took his wand, and slipped quietly down to the common room and past the Fat Lady's portrait. 

He hurried through passageways and down the flights of stairs towards the dungeons, simmering with vague anticipation. He hadn't been alone with Draco since the midnight duel, and half-hoped something similar would happen. If Draco made a move, he fully intended to follow. There would be no need to let Ron know.

After having to take a detour when the last set of stairs decided to change its position, Harry drew up to the door of the Potions classroom. He turned the handle and stepped inside.

Draco was already there. He'd taken a cauldron out and begun to look for the ingredients they needed—bundles of herbs and tiny jars of slippery, slimy oddities were already set on a desk beside the cauldron. On another, a Death Eater mask had been left, facedown. He didn't hear Harry enter the room.

'Am I late?'

Draco sprang around like a startled animal, only slightly relaxing when he saw that the intruder was Harry. 'No. I came early.'

'Oh.' Harry stepped forward, suddenly awkward. 'Draco, um...'

'Don't worry. I've already got most of what's needed. There's just one thing that seems to have disappeared since Snape showed me...' He turned back and began searching the shelves again. 'Ah, here.' He took a squat jar down and put it on the desk with the other ingredients. 'All right. Show me how you prepare everything.'

Harry began to chop and shred as he had before, acutely aware of Draco's gaze on him. He paused when he got to the dragon's liver. 'Draco...I'm sorry about what happened. With Ron.'

'You should be slicing it this way—' Draco showed him how; '—so that it dissolves better in the juices once the serum begins to boil. You're not responsible for what your friend does. I shouldn't have started the fight.'

Harry plopped the chopped liver into the cauldron. 'He was goading you.'

'I shouldn't have risen to it. Now, pour those juices into the cauldron...good...'

'I should have done something to stop him,' Harry muttered. 'I knew he was angry at you.'

'It wasn't your fault.'

Harry's eyes flashed. 'It wasn't yours either!' He dropped his gaze under Draco's shocked expression. 'Sorry.'

'I take it you haven't forgiven him yet.'

'Well, sort of. It still shouldn't have happened.'

'I can think of other things that should never have happened, but did anyway,' Draco muttered. 'All right, now add everything that looks like a plant—except those—and now we can start heating.' He flicked his wand at the cauldron's base to start a fire around it. 'Just stir until it looks less of a swamp and more like a stew.'

'What's the difference?'

'There'll be more fluid, and it will start to boil.' Draco nodded. 'That's a good motion. You have just the right hands for this.'

Harry looked down into the concoction to hide his blush. 'Thank you.'

The potion began to simmer and Draco moved around near the desk. 'We'd better start getting the newts' tails ready—no, don't just drop them in. They need to be squeezed a little first, to mush up the insides. Otherwise there will be lumps, and this needs to be as smooth as possible. Not like that...here.' He took the tail Harry had been holding and held it lengthwise in his palm, locking his fingers around it and pumping. He opened his hand again to show the squashed result. Some of the muscle inside the tail had leaked out, showing just how well it had been mashed. Harry wrinkled his nose. Draco smiled, cautiously. 'It's a little messy, but it makes a better potion in the end.' He dropped the tail into the mixture, which was now boiling. 'Now you try it.'

Harry picked up the next newt's tail and mimicked the motion of Draco's hand, watching for approval. Draco nodded, satisfied. 

'Keep doing that. I'll get the bottles ready.' He glanced at the bubbling fluid in the pot, frowning a little. 'We'll need more than before—I think I over-calculated with the ingredients.' He scanned the remaining morsels on the desk. 'That's all right, though; the proportions are right.'

He swivelled and went to the shelf that housed the many bottles they used in class, running a thin hand through the air above the various necks as he debated which to use. Harry watched him as he pumped the tails.

'Let's see...maybe three more small bottles, and a larger one to take the excess...'

Harry threw the tails into the cauldron. _Perhaps—If I just said—_

Splash.

'Aargh!' 

Harry reeled away from the potion, clutching at his right wrist, although there was a searing patch of skin he daren't cover up. He hissed, his eyes blurring with shocked tears.

Two pale hands took his, and a soft voice in his ear said, 'Let me see.'

Harry blinked back the moisture in his eyes as Draco surveyed the burn. His fingers stroked absent-minded trails around the reddening mark. 

'I have something for this.' His gaze shifted to Harry's face, his eyes questioning. 'It will hurt—it'll probably hurt more than the burn—but it will heal it quickly.'

Harry nodded. Draco reached into his pocket and took out a small bottle, which he uncapped with a sharp twist of his thumb. One hand never left Harry's arm. He tilted the bottle, and a few drops splattered onto the burn.

Harry gasped and clutched at Draco's arm for support. He was vaguely aware of whispered comfort filling his ears, and as the pain began to recede, he became slowly aware of Draco's fingers brushing gently over the now-unmarked skin. The caress seemed to take the pain away as much as the potion had. Harry loosened his hold on Draco's forearm, watching the slow movement of the fingers, mesmerised be the feel of Draco's skin pressing ever so lightly on his.

He was left suddenly bereft of the touch, and looked upward in protest. Draco wouldn't meet his eyes.

'You should keep an eye on the potion,' he said. 'Be careful how you put everything in. Are you finished with the newts' tails? Good. Stir the potion for a few minutes, then let it settle. Put the last herbs in after that, and put the fire out.'

Harry nodded. Draco went back to collecting bottles.

The steady rhythm of circling the stirring rod, compounded with the rising heat from the potion, began to make Harry feel drowsy. He glanced around at Draco. 'Where did you get that potion?'

'I found it.' Draco turned from the shelves, carrying the four selected bottles over. 'I thought it might be useful tonight.'

Harry felt a stab of disappointment. 'You knew I was going to make a mistake?'

'No!' Draco looked mortified. 'No, I meant—for afterward...'

Harry's mind caught up. 'For the Death Eater gathering?' His eyes grew wide. 'Are they really that bad?'

'They've grown worse since the beginning,' Draco muttered. He glanced at the potion. Harry had unconsciously stopped stirring. 'You can probably put those in now.' 

He nodded at the shredded bushels on the desk. Harry dropped them in and extinguished the flames around the cauldron's base with a word.

'So—so they're violent, are they?'

Draco pursed his lips, unaware of Harry's stricken expression. 'Not so much the first one. But something happened last time—I just thought I might need it, if he did anything like that again.'

'What did he do to you?' Harry whispered. 'Was it Cruciatus?'

'Do you know how to frost the cauldron? It has to cool down before you can add those eyeballs.'

'Draco...'

He faced Harry bluntly. 'We didn't come here to discuss the awful things Voldemort is capable of. It's getting toward midnight, and I need to be ready for the gathering tonight.'

Harry stabbed his wand at the pot. '_Glasciare_.'

Ice crystals cracked upward from the base, wrapping around the cauldron. They steamed against its heat, but didn't completely melt.

'Good. That's where Longbottom had to stop—he had trouble at first with casting the spell and then grew too much ice. Some fell in and reacted with the serum. Now, you need about half that jar of eyeballs. Make sure you get as much of the juices in as possible, and swirl it around a bit so they get spread right through. If one or two happen to pop, all the better.'

Harry shuddered. 'I can't believe people drink this.'

'Apparently the usual dangerous side effects of each ingredient are nullified by the reaction with other ingredients. The same with the foul taste.'

'What if I've done it wrong?'

'Snape set up some antidotes in his office in case, but I don't think you have. It looks right to me.'

Harry nodded, and tried to concentrate on stirring without thinking about what might be breaking apart against the rod somewhere down there. Draco watched him closely.

'Snape tells me it was an amplified form of Cruciatus,' he said after a moment of silence. He had to dart forward to catch the stirring rod as Harry lost his grip on it.

'My God..._amplified_?'

'It wasn't meant for me,' Draco said, stirring vigorously. 'The spell was targeted at Snape; I was just stupid enough to get in the way. Voldemort was furious that no one had told him of Dumbledore's counter-attack plan for the London Underground.'

'How do you know he wasn't going to do it to you as well?'

'I think he was—Cruciatus, anyway—and I could have put up with that, but the stronger spell was meant only for Snape. I'm sure of that.'

'I never knew you had to face things like that,' Harry murmured.

'Nor did I until it happened.'

'And—and this meeting? Why so soon afterward?'

Draco sighed, and stopped swirling the serum around. 'He's getting frustrated over Azkaban. I think that after tonight, a few students may no longer be in school. He hinted at dragging someone out there, to end it.'

'I see.'

Draco looked up. 'Don't worry. The teachers will be out in force tonight, you'll see. Very few should be able to get through.'

'Oh,' Harry said weakly. 'Good.'

Draco watched him for a second, then said haltingly, 'How is Black?'

'He's—he's all right.'

'Safe?'

'Yes. Why?'

'I...just wondered.'

'He's not my only family, you know.'

'He's the only family you care to be near. Where is he?'

Harry shrugged. 'I think Dumbledore's hiding him somewhere in the castle, to be honest. That or his letters come back to me by express owl.'

Draco sucked in his breath. 'He's taking a lot of risks.'

'It's nothing new. If he wasn't here, he'd have to go back on the run—he might be anywhere, when he's really needed nearby.'

Draco nodded. 'We'd better finish this.'

'There's more?'

'The spell: veritas revelo. You need to dip the tip of your wand into the serum for it to work properly.'

Harry did so. 'Ver-it-as revel--'

'You need to watch your pronunciation. This is the most important part of the whole potion. Listen: veritas revelo.'

Harry closed his eyes and tried again, concentrating on the way Draco had spoken. It wasn't difficult. '_Veritas revelo_.'

'Perfect.'

Harry's eyes snapped open at the feel of Draco's breath ghosting over his ear. Perhaps Draco noticed. At any rate, he shifted away to take one of the smaller bottles. Harry looked down at the serum. It was completely clear.

'You wouldn't know it from water, would you?'

'I know. Perfect for interrogation.'

'Don't we need to test it?' he asked, as Draco dipped the bottle into the serum.

'No time. You should probably go. Professor Snape will be here soon. I'll finish bottling it for you.'

Harry wasn't sure whether to thank Draco for his help or resent the fact that he was being pushed away. He made his way to the door in silence.

'Harry?'

He stopped. 'Yes?'

Draco was sideways to him, head lowered over the bottles so that his face was shadowed and thereby inscrutable. 'I'm sorry. For what happened at the beginning of the year.'

'Draco...'

'It was stupid. I shouldn't have done that to you.'

'Don't say that. Don't blame yourself for letting go for once. I know why you did it and... I don't mind. Really.'

There was no answer.

'Good night, Draco.'

'Good night,' was the whispered reply.

Harry wandered aimlessly back to Gryffindor tower, wishing bitterly that he'd had the courage or the recklessness to do—_something_—to show Draco just how much he didn't mind. Draco had been right: Harry counted six teachers patrolling the corridors on his way, each of whom gave him a nod or a wave. Obviously everyone knew he was supposed to be out tonight. 

But as much as he squinted into the shadows or moved silently around the corners, he never once saw a student stealthily making his way towards the castle entrance. Not one.

Perhaps he should wake Ron; see Dumbledore.

Make sure Draco didn't get hurt again.


	11. Parting

****

Rating: **R**

Warnings: The 15 Years Rule continues. Herein will be found: slash, coarse language and character death. If you can't handle all of that, gerroff.

****

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

****

Pleas:Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

****

Thanks To:K. Ashley, Blaze, Mate Park, Minna, Scratches (There's plenty of Sirius in this chapter for you. Kissing and making up will be very soon. Have fun with the truth potion.), ola (Yes, there will be more of Harper, but not in this chapter. His story will be spinning out in upcoming chapters.), Jessica (*Grins* Yes, he's become sensible about Draco at last. You have a good point with regard to the sigils, and there's a little bit in this chapter that will explain why they couldn't be used at Hogwarts in Harry's third year.), dreamsneak, Kearie, catzini, Evil Windstar, kristy, darklites, DancingRain, Queen of Cyrum, Carolanne O'Rourke, Sorceress Jade, Canarde, Kimmy, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, V, ILLK, Night Spirit, valacirca, SoulSister, Wednesday, Penelope-Z, VanityFair, Demeter, S. Maldiva (*Nods* Goodness is on its way to Draco, although not without a price. Ron would squirm rather a lot to be called a homophobe, but that's the best description for him at the moment. Only that he's a selective homophobe; he wouldn't really care if it was anyone other than Draco and Harry.), oracle (More written, now.).

I've got a Chemistry test this week and a blocked Maths exam the next—and the point of that announcement was to warn everyone that the next chapter will probably take a while to arrive. Everyone who reviews and leaves an email for me to contact them by will get an alert when I do, however.

****

All Torn Down: Parting

...

When the dark wood fell before me

And all the paths were overgrown;

When the priests of pride say there is no other way,

I tilled the sorrows of stone.

....

I did not believe because I could not see,

Though you came to me in the night.

When the dawn seemed forever lost,

You showed me your love in the light of the stars.

...

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

Cast your soul on the sea.

When the dark night seems endless,

Please remember me.

...

Then the mountain rose before me

By the deep well of desire,

From the fountain of forgiveness,

Beyond the ice and the fire.

...

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

Cast your soul on the sea.

When the dark night seems endless,

Please remember me.

...

Though we share this humble path, alone;

How fragile is the heart.

Oh give these clay feet wings to fly,

To touch the face of the stars.

...

Breathe life into this feeble heart;

Lift this mortal veil of fear,

Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears

We'll rise above these earthly cares.

...

Cast your eyes on the ocean;

Cast your soul to the see.

When the dark night seems endless,

Please remember me.

Please remember me.

...

--_Dante's Prayer_, Loreena McKennitt

The door creaked. Draco looked up from capping the final bottle to see Snape standing halfway inside the room, partially obscured by the shadows melding into his robes. The Potions Master was quietly watching him behind his mask.

'He did it, then.'

'Yes.'

Snape nodded. 'His greatest problem is concentrating. Did you test it?'

'No.' 

'Why not?'

Draco collected the bottles up and put them on another shelf for finished projects as he spoke. 'We didn't have the time. And...I was afraid of what I might be tempted to ask him.'

'I see. I'll test it myself, later, then.' There was a pause. 'And you were all right working with him?'

'Yes, sir.'

Quick feet crossed the room, and Snape's hand rested lightly on Draco's shoulder. 'You've done well. Let's go.' 

Most of the corridors they passed through were completely darkened, although torches lit the major routes to the castle entrance, each of them guarded by a teacher. They passed no fewer than eight on the way out of the castle. 

Professor McGonagall was guarding the door. She whispered, 'Good luck,' to them as they paced out into the night.

The road down to Hogsmeade was deserted and silent. At the outskirts of the village, where there was usually a ring of wand light, only one spark lit the darkness enough to reveal a tall figure, facing them--waiting for them.

'I don't like the look of that,' Snape muttered. 'We certainly aren't early.' 

'Should we turn back?' 

'He'll have seen us by now. Let's see what this is about. Be on guard, though.'

The figure's face became clearer the nearer they got, and Snape gave a low curse. It was Voldemort.

They stopped a few feet away. Snape bowed low, murmuring, 'My lord, where are the others?'

Voldemort regarded them in cold silence for a moment, completely ignoring the question. Draco noticed that he clasped a small box to his chest, similar to the one used in Pansy's induction last time. It was almost hidden by the folds of his robes and the shadows cast back from his wand's light. 'I have a task for the two of you.'

'Lord?'

'Call it a chance for redemption.' Voldemort opened the box and held his wand over it. Inside was a tiny—and quite plainly human—skull; it was probably a child's, perhaps a baby's. Draco shuddered. 'I have here a Portkey that will transport you to Azkaban. I need it to be broken, tonight.'

'Why tonight?' Draco said.

The Dark Lord sneered. 'My agents have been trying for months to penetrate Azkaban, and you ask why tonight? Our strongest allies abide there, and you dare to ask me _why tonight_?'

'Forgive him, lord,' Snape said quickly. 'He is still a child, and not yet fully aware of the urgency.'

'Make sure he does when he gets there, then,' Voldemort snapped. 'There are giants guarding the prison from the mainland now, due to that bargain Dumbledore made with them. Agents can no longer get close enough to break the sigils holding the Dementors to the prison—but if a few are sent inside...'

'Surely there are others who could better carry out the task than the two of us.'

'Of course there are. They are isolated from Azkaban by the giants, or trapped within its walls! Will you deny your debt to me?'

'No,' Draco said. 'We are grateful for your faith in us, lord. We will do what we must to prove ourselves worthy.'

'Good.' Voldemort gave a thin, brittle smile. 'I sent messages to the rest of my followers asking them not to come tonight, since I had already chosen you—who better to break Azkaban than a spy who has been within its walls, and a Malfoy who knows both cunning _and_ loyalty?'

'Lord,' Snape said. 'Do you realise that if we do this, we will no longer be able to hide? The Ministry will be forced to acknowledge us, and will act against us.'

'Not in the shambles it's in at the moment. And, Snape, if you pull this off, there will no longer be any need for us to hide.' Voldemort paused. 'This mission is of great importance, but it must also remain secret. Once accomplished, you will never speak of it again. No one else must know.' He closed the box. 'Return to the castle. Gather whatever you may need. I will await your return.'

They both bowed and headed back the way they had come. 

'No one else must know, my left foot,' Snape growled as they neared Hogwarts. 'I'll bet every Death Eater in the school and out knows about this.'

'He suspects, doesn't he? There's no other reason for him to have singled us out.'

'I'm almost sure of it—the only thing I don't understand is this secrecy. If he wants to lynch us, why not invite the whole crowd to watch?'

'Maybe he wants to see how far we'll go to keep our cover—see who we really are most loyal to.'

'Perhaps, damn him.' Snape threw a sideways glance at Draco. 'Did your father ever give you a black box?' Draco nodded, expression darkening. 'Good. Go and take everything inside it with you. I know it sounds awful, but it may be necessary.' They entered the castle, not pausing in their pace. Professor McGonagall, who was still hovering at the door, stared after them for a second in bewilderment, then hastened to catch up to them.

'What's going on?' she said in a low, urgent tone.

'Voldemort's sending us to Azkaban. Bet you half a Knut he's worked everything out.'

'I won't take a wager so blatantly foolish, Severus Snape. Or so cheap.'

'Draco, go and find what you need. Remember to take the truth serum with you as well—anything you have that could help.'

'What are we going to do?' he asked.

'I'm going to see Dumbledore. We'll sabotage our mission.'

Snape and McGonagall continued toward the Headmaster's office while Draco broke away from them and headed to his lair. He hurtled through the tunnels, the burning tip of his wand held high. Every passage he passed through was dark; he wasn't sure whether the teachers posted here had given up, or whether they had never been patrolled at all.

Draco suddenly heard a growl somewhere behind his shoulder and he ducked his head down, trying to run faster. He gasped at the sound of animal feet racing, drawing close to him. Draco knew he couldn't make himself move any faster, but he was near the Chimaera Hall—if he could get down to his room in time, he might be safe—

A massive weight flew into his back, sending Draco sprawling on the floor and causing him to drop his wand, which rolled a few feet away when it hit the ground. He felt the weight on top of him change shape, and a voice, no less a growl than the animal's said, 'It's a little late to run from your master, isn't it, Death Eater?' 

Sirius Black moved off him, and Draco rolled over, only to be pinned down by his shoulders. He stared up at the man's scowl, wondering why Black didn't recognise him. It took him a second to realise he was still wearing his mask.

Draco's hand snaked past Black's and he tore the mask away from his face, staring up at his captor and trying to catch his breath. Black's expression shifted to one of surprise and he let go of Draco, taking a few steps backward to allow him to stand up.

'Sorry, Malfoy. I didn't realise it was you.'

Draco nodded as he got to his feet and replaced the mask.

'Look, what's going on? You're the only one in Death Eater garb I've seen tonight, and I must have been through half the castle by now.'

'Voldemort's done something,' Draco panted. 'We're going to Azkaban—Snape and I. Go find Dumbledore.'

'Azkaban?' Black whispered.

'I know. Professor Snape's going to tell the Headmaster right now.'

Sirius nodded. 'I'll go, then.' Without a word more, he disappeared back down the corridor.

Draco picked up his wand and continued to his room at a slightly slower pace.

Once within its familiar walls, Draco turned to the cabinet, seeking out the box that had been relegated to one dark corner. He took it out and opened it, studying the contents with loathing.

They glittered with a malicious, metallic sheen. There were knives, and nasty little hooked devices—many of them looked like plain Muggle weapons, but each, he knew, carried a deadly magical barb. There were a few potions, each labelled with sickness or death, and a small, silver wand, with runes engraved on it. Draco didn't even want to think about what that was capable of.

Each weapon had its sheath and could be easily tucked away inside a wizard's robes. It didn't take Draco long to empty the box. The last thing he took was the wand, which he tucked deep into the lining of a pocket and deliberately ensnared it in the loose threads buried there. He didn't want to be able to reach for it too easily.

He investigated the other objects inside the cabinet carefully, eventually selecting only the truth serum and one or two extra poisons; the mildest ones he'd kept. He stood, feeling filthy. He had to remind himself that he wouldn't be using anything against anyone if he could help it—and only against proven, dangerous criminals if he had to.

Then he thought, _Black was once one of them_, and his stomach gave a contrary lurch.

Not knowing where to wait for Snape, Draco retraced his steps to the castle entrance and waited. The minutes crept by.

They crept back.

Draco began to pace back and forth before the castle doors. Surely the time it had taken him to get to his room and back should be enough to inform Dumbledore of what was happening?

He relaxed when Snape's figure appeared at the far end of the corridor, and ran forward a way to meet him. He stopped when the Potions Master's face came into view; his expression was reminiscent of a storm about to break.

'Professor, what's—'

'We're going to Azkaban, and we have company.' Snape didn't halt, but jabbed a thumb backwards. Draco stared down the hall behind him, but...

'Sir, there's no one th...' his voice trailed off as a section of the air gave a slight ripple and the heads of Sirius Black and Ron Weasley appeared, apparently floating. Black looked grim as Snape; Weasley was scowling even more. 'Oh.'

The pair draped themselves again in the Invisibility cloak as Snape beckoned from the door. 'We're to go to Azkaban, strengthen the wards there, and get out. We haven't much time.'

Their steps pounded the way to Hogsmeade and the Dark Lord. Voldemort eyed them coolly.

'I did not intend to wait that long.'

'We had to prepare,' Snape said. 'Lord, I am not certain that we can...'

'You will prove yourselves worthy. I am not, in fact, asking for much. You know Arabella Figg, and you know runes. All you need do is find the sigils holding the Dementors to the island, and destroy them.'

__

And then get out alive, Draco thought grimly.

Voldemort opened the box. 'Go.'

Snape reached for the skull, slowly. Draco did the same, trying not to think of what it was—who it was—who it _might have been_—

The air whispered near him and he felt unseen, questing fingertips brush his. Draco looked at Snape, whose hand hovered just over the Portkey. In the same instant, they lowered their hands, and were jerked forward through the Portkey's magical passage.

Draco had used Portkey travel several times in his life, but never in such a grotesquely surreal situation. He was feeling bad enough without the twist and pull at his navel, and as the world reasserted itself around him, he felt bile rush to his lips. He swallowed it back, and was left with a fetid taste in his mouth and a tract of stinging heat down his throat.

The air was cold and heavy as ice; Draco shivered and pulled his robe closer about him. The room around them was dark, and Draco had a definite sense of being enclosed—or, rather, trapped. Tiny, clawed feet scampered away from them as Snape murmured a spell to light his wand, and a black, rodent-like shape seemed to disappear in a corner as darkness fled the room.

It was a prison cell, although apparently one that had been empty for some time. The door stood slightly ajar, showing a slit of grey passageway beyond.

From the floor, there were a few grumbles, and a little scuffling. After a moment, Black and Weasley managed to disentangle themselves from the Invisibility Cloak and each other, and helped one another up. Black folded the garment and stuffed it into a pocket inside his robe.

'Sorry,' Ron muttered; 'I've only done it a couple of times before.' His face twisted as his eyes lit upon the skull, still in Snape's hand. 'That's _disgusting_!' 

'It's supposed to remind us of the bond we bear to him,' Snape said hollowly, flipping the sleeve of his left arm up a little as though to explain. He placed the skull in a crevice between the stones of the wall, just large enough to hold it. 'Poor child.'

His eyes flicked sideways along the wall, and he straightened, a deep darkness buried in his eyes. 'Oh. How touching.' 

The rest followed his gaze. There was a long moment of silence.

'You know, most people just tick off the days,' Black said. 'Or engrave an insult for the bastards who work here.'

Chipped into the wall was a vague picture of a rose, with two leaves springing from the stem that looked remarkably like a pair of "S"s.

'Sometimes I wonder where that obsession of yours springs from.'

'Shut up,' Snape snarled. 'It's not your concern.'

'Why is it so cold here?' Draco cut across Black's retort, defusing the tension building up between the two. He raised his wand nervously. 'Does it mean Dementors are nearby?'

'They're always nearby in Azkaban, lad,' Black growled. 'It's always this cold. Let's go.'

They slipped quietly out into the passage, the two older men leading. The stonework of the walls was broken up by door after door, each of which must have hidden a cell like Snape's. All were locked; some were barred; a few had massive chains braced across them. Often, Draco could hear the prisoners behind those doors as he went past, not their screams and pleas for freedom, but a low, awful moaning that echoed down the corridors. 

The tight set of Black's jaw caused Draco to wonder whether and how much he'd contributed to the mournful ululations in his time here. Then he wondered whether Snape had ever been pulled to the same hopeless insanity. He glanced at his teacher, who held his wand high and stepped the most silent of all of them. He kept to the darkest shadows, eyes alert. Draco found he couldn't believe it of the man.

'Sirius,' Weasley breathed; 'How did you manage to survive here so long?'

'Mainly by wishing that I wasn't.'

Suddenly, the occupant of one of the cells they were passing began to jabber behind his door, loudly. He must have been watching through the keyhole, for he'd certainly seen at least one of them:

'Red hair! Red hair! Get you, I will I will I will! Come here...' The door rattled. 'Drag him over, silver man! Let me out. We can have some fun before we sing him to sleep...'

Draco's breath caught. He, and Ron—they were the only ones the voice could be talking to. Silver man? Was he being mistaken for his father? And how—what did the prisoner know about the Weasleys?

'Quiet, Lestrange!' Sirius shouted. 'Do you want to bring the Dementors?'

'Ah, Blackie. You got out, I remember. Lucky man. Yes, I remember.' There was a pause. The rest of the passage had fallen silent; the other prisoners must have been listening to the lunatic's rant. The voice spoke up again, adopting a singsong tone: 'Traitor. Traitor, traitor, traitor...'

Black took one step forward and gave the door a savage kick that made its hinges rattle dangerously. Snape grasped his arm and pulled him back.

'Are you trying to let the bastard out?' he hissed. 

Black scowled and pulled away, pacing down the corridor and out of sight around the nearest corner. They raced after him, following Snape's example in disregarding silence in favour of speed. As they ran, the noise from the cells started up again—not moaning this time, but shrill, excited cries, either egging them on or shouting for them to come back, maybe to free the prisoners. Draco was certain some of the inmates were yelling purely for the sake of being heard.

They passed through several more passages before catching up to Black again. Fortunately the rows of cells had petered out somewhere along the line, so the wave of hysteria couldn't follow them. Snape took hold of Black's shoulder and shoved him against the wall.

'What do you think you're doing? We have a couple of children here with us, and Dumbledore's orders, I think, were quite clear on the point that we were to _get out alive_!' 

'In case you hadn't noticed,' Sirius grated, 'I was heading for the nearest ward.'

'I don't believe you could have failed to hear the commotion you just caused. The Dementors will be able to follow it directly to us—' Snape paused, tilting his head as though listening. He glared at Black, swept around, and disappeared back the way they had come with a muttered, 'Keep quiet.' 

'That was a Death Eater,' Ron said quietly, staring at Sirius. His face looked pale and pinched. 'One of the Lestranges. I know about them.'

Sirius nodded. Weasley slumped against the wall. Draco noticed he was shivering; the cold must have crept into his robes. 'Why was he raving about red hair?'

'Never mind, Ron.'

Professor Snape returned before the Weasel could reply, turning into the corridor in a billow of black. He didn't pause as he went by them, and they had to run to catch up.

'I suggest you make some attempt to control yourself the next time we get into a situation like this, Black. Draco; now might be a good time to take that potion. Let's keep moving and see if we can't get to that ward before they catch us.'

'How far behind are they?' Sirius asked, while Draco searched in his pockets for the tiny bottle that held his portion of truth serum.

'Not far. A few of the prisoners are giving them trouble, but that won't last long.' 

'How many wards are there?' Draco said. He uncapped the bottle and took a gulp.

'Ms Figg cast six of them around the outer walls of the prison. We're quite close to the first.'

'How do we go about strengthening them?'

'Black and I will take care of that. You two keep an eye out for Dementors—' Snape glared again at Sirius— 'And escaped prisoners.'

The man froze. 'What?'

'The inmates are in a frenzy because of you. Some of those doors are quite old, as well. I _told_ you they were giving the Dementors problems.'

'Azkaban is the most impenetrable fortress in the world.'

Snape's lip curled. '_You_ managed to get out, didn't you?' He ignored the fury in Black's eyes. 'Azkaban's impenetrable because it's on an Unmappable island and protected by some of the most powerful magic in the world, _yes_. The idea is to keep out anyone who isn't meant to be here. None—or very few—of the prisoners here will be able to remember Apparition, so they're not much of a threat for the outside world if they get out of the cells, but they will be a grave threat for us.'

'That's if they get out.'

'Did I happen to mention that the Dementors were having trouble?'

'Oh, shut up.'

'I thought the Dementors stole a wizard's power when he spent too long near them,' Ron said. A momentary flush crossed his face as the two men stilled ominously. 'No offence meant.'

'The Dementors...have their effects, it's true,' Snape said.

'But some of the wizards here were very powerful when they arrived,' Sirius concluded.

They hurried on. The passages grew by degrees more winding, and there were a scattering of doors again—no sound emanated from those chambers, though. Draco noticed that Sirius's eyes grew dark and uneasy as they passed.

'Brings back memories...' Snape muttered. Black gave a curt nod.

Draco stared from one to the other. 'What is it?'

'They're interrogation rooms.' 

The little group stilled as a hissing sound issued from up ahead. Sirius and Snape both lifted their wands, as though warding off something intangible.

'They must be guarding it,' Black muttered. His face twisted. 'Protecting their kingdom.'

'We'll move quietly. Keep any happiness out of your thoughts, anything that might attract their attention to us.' Snape nodded at Ron and Draco. 'Keep an eye out behind us. We'll be passing a lot of passages which they might use to get to us from the back.'

'How are we going to get around the Dementors when we find the ward?' Black wanted to know. Snape stared at him blankly.

'By magic.'

Sirius gave an irritated growl, but Snape had already moved ahead and wasn't paying attention.

They crept onward, and the cold in the air around Draco became thicker and sharper. He shivered alongside Weasley, watching his breath rise in little puffs from his mouth. Little by little, they began to fall behind the other two.

Something in the darkness scrabbled along the corridor floor, fleeing the light of their wands. Draco flinched at the sound.

'There's no need to jump at shadows,' Weasley muttered. Draco ignored him. His heart was racing and the only thought in his head was to get out of this place.

Each passage that they passed was a gaping mouth of darkness. Draco's eyes flew from one to the next, straining to see what lay beyond the circle of wand light. He half expected the Weasel to chide him for being a coward, but Ron seemed to be just as nervous now.

They stepped past another corridor, and Draco thought he saw a shift in the shadows. He whirled about and stabbed the tip of his wand into the darkness.

'Hear anything?' Ron muttered. Draco shook his head. His hands were shaking. By now he wasn't sure if it was from the cold, or from fear.

Weasley took a cautious step toward the shadows, and cast his light into the mouth of the passageway. It fell on a swath of cloaked and hooded figures a few feet in, which stirred at his terrified gasp. The figure nearest him raised its arms and reached out longingly.

'_Expecto patronum_!' The words left Draco's lips even as Ron jumped back, but all that came from his wand was a mist that flicked at the Dementors. It did little other than to draw their attention to him. He tried to concentrate on Harry, on the memory of their kiss—God, how much longer was he going to be able to live on that memory alone?— '_Expecto patronum_!' 

The Patronus wasn't nearly as strong as it had become when they were practising, but it served to drive off at least one of the monsters. He heard Ron's shouted spell from behind him and saw a rush of silver mist spurt at the crowd. Together, they backed away.

'Help!' Weasley yelled up the corridor, in the direction that Snape and Black had taken. Draco tried to discern how many Dementors there were, but they kept shifting so that he lost count. There were a lot.

'_Expecto patronum_! _Expecto patronum_!' It became a little easier the further away from them he got.

Footsteps sounded from somewhere behind; there was a shout and Snape's rose-Patronus flew at the crowd of Dementors. The hissing noise rose again, now clearly coming from the cluster they faced.

'What are they doing?' Weasley said.

'It's their language, when they need it.' Black's voice came from somewhere on Draco's right side. He realised suddenly that he was closest to the Dementors, and he took a few steps backwards.

Two Dementors separated from the rest of the group and made a sudden rush at him. He jumped back, and raised his wand as they bore down—

'_Expecto patronum_.' Black's Patronus darted in front of him. It was faint, a transparent, silvery form, but was substantial enough to make the pair of Dementors subside, at least for the moment.

Draco stared at the figure in front of him as it shimmered in the air before him for a moment before dissipating.

__

Harry.

A rough hand grasped his arm and pulled him back. 'Stupid boy,' Black growled. 'The idea was that I give you enough time to get out of the way!'

'Let be,' Snape snapped. He moved in front of Draco and began to shoot his Patronus at the crowd of Dementors. They shifted apart to avoid the rose, and spilled out into the corridor, effectively surrounding the group. Sirius laughed; a mad, keen sound.

'Good one, Snape.'

'Thought you'd like it.'

The men began to cast the spell together, each directing their Patronus at a different side of the ring around them. Draco couldn't see what was so wonderful about having Dementors looming everywhere he looked. Weasley, too, looked less than happy. They met each other's eyes; a glance that turned to a glare after a moment. Draco turned away and cast his Patronus at the nearest Dementor. He was aware that Ron was doing the same thing behind him.

Black's Patronus, weak to begin with, grew more insubstantial the more he cast it. Draco watched him from the corner of his eye; saw the uncertainty and the fear that was growing inside his dark eyes.

__

What must it be like to have to fight these again, after having spent thirteen years so near they could have kissed him at any moment?

Snape gave a hoarse cry as a small gap appeared in the ring of Dementors. They rushed forward, and both Snape and Black managed to get through. As Draco moved to follow them, though, the ring tightened and closed in, leaving he and Ron vulnerable.

The Dementor in front of Draco was so close that its hands actually grasped at him when it raised them. Draco pulled away with such desperate force that he fell to the ground. He had to scramble to get away; only dimly aware of the rush of silver light that meant Weasley had set his Patronus against the monster.

Snape and Sirius were fighting the Dementors from behind now. A small group had detached themselves from the rest of the circle to deal with them. Draco pulled himself up and turned around to face the side of the ring that Ron was unable to concentrate on. Again and again, his Patronus burst from his wand—over and over, his mother beat down the monsters. Each one that fell was replaced with another, until—

'Weasley!' he barked, spotting a gap between two Dementors that hadn't been closed in yet. Ron turned his head, and they both ran at the weak point, shoving through.

The ring broke up as Dementors either turned to face them where they were now or moved forward to attack Snape and Sirius. Draco flicked his wand wildly, picking off any Dementor that came too near as he backed away.

Ron, he noticed, wasn't running.

All that Draco could see of the other two was the flashes of light that announced each Patronus they cast. Even their shouts sounded far away.

He stared around him, still unconsciously moving backwards. He and Ron alone were facing maybe eight Dementors. He licked his lips. It was too many. There was no way they would be able to hold on for long...

Weasley was still shooting his Patronus at them.

Draco ran forward against every nerve that screamed at him to move in the opposite direction, and grabbed at Ron's arm. 

'We've got to go!' he shouted. 'They'll swarm all over us!' 

Ron shrugged him off. '_Expecto patronum_! I'm not running, Malfoy.' 

Draco stared. Weasley was pale, trembling, and he staggered on his feet. Still he continued to cast the spell.

Draco put his hand on Ron's arm again, but tightened his grip this time when Weasley tried to push him off. He hauled his enemy bodily away, to much protestation.

'Sometimes it's better to run away than to stay and die, Gryffindor.'

Draco dragged him back down several passages before he relented and let Weasley go at the entrance to another corridor. Ron turned the instant he loosened his grip and shoved Draco against the wall, his face flushed with anger.

'How dare you?' he panted. 'Sirius and Snape are still back there, and they—' 

'They'll be fine,' Draco said. His head rang from the knock against the wall. 'They've dealt with these before, but we haven't, and we were more vulnerable. Especially you.'

'Don't give me that,' Weasley shouted. 'You don't give a damn what happens to me!'

Draco shoved back abruptly. 'As though you give me a reason to! And I do care about what happens to Snape, so don't you dare try to make me feel guilty about saving us.' 

'Saving us,' the Weasel sneered. 'You—' He froze as a scabbed, wrinkled hand emerged from the darkness at the entrance of the passageway, groping at his red hair. Draco's eyes flicked to the shadows; there was a figure there, just discernible. It was clothed in rags rather than the Dementor's robes, and in the second before his mind spurred him to action, he was sure he heard a low hiss of laughter, into which the words, 'Silver man' somehow seeped.

Draco knocked the wizard's hand away from Ron, and they ran. This time, Weasley didn't have to be forced.

They pelted down the corridors, retracing their steps back to Snape's old cell. Ron slammed the door behind them and slumped against the wood, head in his hands. Draco shifted to the back of the room and sank down to the floor.

'Red hair,' Weasley moaned. 'Red hair...' He looked up and caught sight of the Portkey, wedged between the two stones where Snape had left it. 'Oh, my God.' 

He dropped onto the floor as though he'd suddenly lost feeling in his legs, staring at the skull in absolute horror.

'What is it?'

'Red hair...' Ron repeated, and shook himself. He pointed a trembling finger at the little skull. 'M-my sister,' he croaked.

Draco stared at him, then at the skull. 'Your sister's back at Hogwarts...' 

Ron shook his head violently. 'Not Ginny. My sister...the baby my parents had after they had Charlie...before Percy. Maggie. She was so little, and Voldemort was still around. Mum and Dad were right in the fight against him, and…one day they woke up and she was gone from her bed.' Tears began to run down Ron's face. 'They knew it must have been a Death Eater. I don't know why they took her, and left the rest of my family. But she was gone, and now, now...'

'Oh, good God,' Draco breathed as Ron covered his face again.

'No! Bad god. Horrible, evil, vindictive god!' Ron's shoulders quaked uncontrollably. Draco inched forward on his hands and knees, and put his hand out tentatively.

'Will you be all right?' It was a stupid thing to say, but he couldn't think of anything else.

Ron's head snapped up, his tear-streaked face twisted. There was a burning fury deep in his eyes that made Draco recoil even before he spoke.

'What do you care? You and your family are all alike!' Draco stiffened, feeling his own rage stir. 'You don't care about anything—_anything _that doesn't involve Harry!'

'That's not true.'

'Yes, it is! Can't bloody live without him, can you? You're going to have to find some other way to cast Patronus, Malfoy, because if I see you blushing again I swear I'll tear you apart. Just loved that kiss, didn't you, just loved the way you had him trapped—' 

Draco's fist connected with Ron's jaw before he knew what was happening, and he barely pulled himself up from hitting him again. 'Excuse me for wanting to be near something good after being thrown so close to the Dark side!'

Ron curled up, breathing fast. He stared at the skull, fear and horror fighting the fury in his eyes. Draco subsided, and an uneasy silence fell between them for a time.

'Do you love him?' Ron's voice was small, and somehow broken.

Draco shrugged, glancing away. 'I don't know. How can I? I've never been allowed near enough to find out.'

There was a great deal more he could have said, but that seemed to be all the truth serum demanded of him. Draco was fervently grateful that he wasn't under Veritaserum, which would have pulled all his thoughts and hopes and fears to the surface.

'Would you sleep with him?'

'In an instant.' Draco glared at Ron, feeling his face grow hot. 'You utter bastard. You only asked me that because you knew I was under the serum.'

Weasley uncurled a little and held out his hand. After taking a moment to translate the meaning of the gesture, Draco retrieved the truth serum from his pocket and tossed the little bottle across the room. 

Ron caught the bottle, took the cap off, and raised it in a silent toast before tipping a few drops into his mouth. He replaced the stopper and threw it back to Draco.

'Ask me anything. We're even.' 

Draco considered that. 'All right. Do you love Hermione?'

'Yes,' Ron said immediately. He seemed almost as surprised at the answer as Draco was. 'Why did you ask me that?' 

Draco shrugged. 'Tit for tat, I suppose. Why are you surprised?'

'I thought...we're so young, and she—I thought she'd never really love someone like me, so it wasn't really worth...' Ron trailed off and tried again. 'I thought she didn't love me, so I thought _I_ couldn't.' He paused. 'Do you think _maybe_ you love Harry?' 

Draco sighed, and placed a hand across his chest. 'Maybe,' he whispered. 'I hope so.'

Ron grunted. 'Feels kind of strange to ask that about your best friend.' 

Draco nodded. 'Feels a little strange, to be saying that about your worst enemy.'

'What do you want from him?'

'I...' Draco paused, mouthing silently, trying to form words around what the serum was urging him to say. 'Acceptance, I think. Mainly. I...I want him, someone, to not be repulsed by who I am or who I was—or what I am—' He raised a brow at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably. Draco's voice dropped. 'I want someone to hold me, and not push me away. Anyone. But especially Harry.'

A drawn-out moment of silence hung between them. Ron sighed. 'You know, Malfoy, I've never known anyone who was so good at pity as you.'

He stood up, moved to the back of the room by Draco, and sat beside him. Draco stiffened when Ron put an arm around his shoulders so that they were in an awkward kind of semi-embrace.

'You don't have to do that,' he muttered gruffly.

'Shut up,' Ron said. He sounded equally embarrassed. 'You were the one who said you wanted anyone to hold you. Don't get all finicky on me now.'

Draco remained rigid for a moment before allowing himself to settle against, if not quite _into_ the warmth of Ron's body. At least it helped to negate some of the coldness in the place.

After a moment more he turned inward, leaning his head against Ron's shoulder. Ron shifted. 'If you start trying to kiss me...'

'Relax, Weasley. The only person who I want to kiss is Harry.'

Ron squirmed again, then sighed. 'At least you're loyal.'

Draco laughed. 'Right. You'll make a Hufflepuff of me yet.' 

'Maybe that's going a bit far.' 

'Maybe.' Draco looked up. Ron was staring down at him. 'Why did you come here?'

'If it wasn't me, it would have been Harry.'

'And you didn't trust me enough to let him go.' 

'That was part of it. But then, Harry always does the most dangerous things. He's always survived it so far, but...I couldn't stand the thought of him not coming back from this.'

'So you went instead. You're a real Gryffindor, Weasley. I should probably take notes. Then maybe Harry would at least have me as a friend...'

Ron grunted. 'We had a huge fight about it. Look, Malfoy...when we get back, would you tell Harry I think it's all right?'

Draco frowned slightly. 'Okay. Am I to know what's all right?'

'Never mind. He'll know.'

'Mm.' Draco raised his head to stare at the door. His eyes narrowed. 'Do you hear something?'

Ron cocked his head to the side, listening. He moved out of their clumsy hug and crawled to the door, pressing an ear to the wood. After a second he nodded. 'Someone's coming.'

Draco got up. 'Snape and Black?'

'Don't know.' Ron shivered. 'It could be Lestrange.'

Draco pressed against the door himself. 'Sounds like someone arguing...'

'Must be Snape and Sirius, then.'

'I don't know. Lestrange's raving mad; he could be fighting with himself...'

'I want to get out of here, Malfoy. I don't much care who's behind the door.'

Draco looked down at him. Ron's eyes were shadowed, and they skirted to the skull as he watched. Draco nodded. 'You open the door. I'll have my wand out in case it's someone we don't want to see.'

'No, it's all right.' Ron stood, and paced to the back of the room. When he turned around, his face was grimly determined. He held his wand out and ready. 'If it's Lestrange, I want to avenge my sister.'

Draco stared at him, and Ron raised his chin defiantly. 'Well? I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I? Open the door.'

Draco gripped the wood, and swung it inward, stepping away behind it. One look at Ron's scowl told him who was coming down the corridor to meet them.

Ron flicked his wand, but the spell he'd intended to cast was drowned out by Lestrange's roar of, '_Expelliarmus_!'

Ron's wand dropped from his hand and he staggered back under the weight of the spell.

'_Crucio_!

Ron gasped, and then began to scream. He dropped to his knees. Draco raced to pick his wand up from the floor, trying desperately to ignore Ron's cries and think of a way to stop Lestrange. He turned. The ragged figure was at the door, staring down at Ron with a gleeful expression. Draco's stomach clenched.

'Red hair, my pretty little Weasley scalp,' Lestrange said. 'I'll have a bigger one this time. And you, my silver man...' He broke the spell on Ron as he transferred his gaze to Draco, who froze in raising his own wand. Ron moaned on the floor. 

Sharp blue eyes sparkled as they swept over Draco. His hand went to his pocket, urgently seeking the most powerful weapon he had...

'You've betrayed us, haven't you...?' Lestrange's wand came down. '_Crucio_, silver man.'

Draco's hand clenched around the small, silver wand at the bottom of his pocket. He stiffened, ground his teeth together, but didn't cry out. It wasn't as bad as the amplified spell...he wasn't going to let himself scream.

Draco did sink to his knees, though, as Lestrange moved forward, his eyes bright and his smile wide. Lestrange's free hand cupped Draco's chin, and abruptly the spell ended. 

'Not silver man at all, are you?' the lunatic sniffed. 'But so very, very like him...a son, perhaps? A Malfoy son, betraying his blood? Oh dear, Daddy will be cross...'

Draco groped for the wand in his pocket, his fingers fighting against the tangle of threads he'd deliberately—_deliberately_, damn it!—set it amongst. Lestrange smiled his smile at him, and almost nonchalantly hit him with a force that knocked him to the ground.

Lestrange's attention bounced back to Ron, who was struggling to get to his feet now. His voice, soft and clear, echoed back to Draco:

'How much of Daddy's blood do you have, little silver man? I bet you'd still like to watch...'

Lestrange's wand rose, slowly. Draco tore at the threads entangling the wand, watching Lestrange with wide eyes.

__

Oh. My. God.

The wand shouldn't have swooped downward so gracefully. Lestrange's voice shouldn't have been such a purr as he whispered, '_Avada kedavra_.'

But, more than anything else, it shouldn't have worked. Ron's body shouldn't have dropped and draped itself over the cell floor like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut by the flash of lancing green light.

Lestrange crouched over Ron and petted his head. 'Pretty, pretty Weasley scalp,' he murmured. 'I had fun with you.' 

Draco sprang at him, knocking the man off-balance with one badly aimed fist. He punched again, and Lestrange was sprawled on the floor, but still conscious. Draco scrambled onto his chest, using the weight of his body to hold the man down. He jammed his fists into Lestrange's face with grim concentration.

It wasn't right. There was blood all over his hands, and everywhere on Lestrange's face, but the lunatic was _laughing_; he wouldn't stop. The sound roared in Draco's ears. He wanted nothing more than to silence it, Lestrange, forever.

Draco paused when the laughter refused to fade, and scrabbled in another pocket for one of the jars he'd taken from the dark box. He uncapped it and shoved the bottle, whole, down Lestrange's throat before he could think about what he was doing. It was a very small bottle.

Lestrange spluttered and gave a few gurgling giggles. Then a sigh shushed out of him, and he lay still.

Draco slid off Lestrange's body. He crawled over to Ron, and rolled him over so that he could see the face. Ron's eyes stared up at Draco and cut through him with the most horribly blank gaze he'd ever seen. Draco moved to close his eyes, but stilled when he saw his hand, covered in blood.

His stomach twisted. Draco shifted away from Ron, still not standing. He didn't think he could walk. Bile came rushing to his mouth and this time he couldn't fight it.

He was still retching ten minutes later when he heard the door creak and Black's shocked, 'Good God...'

A garbled, hysterical laugh wrenched from him. 'No. Bad god...'

A few steps sounded, then Black had his hand on Draco's back, soothing him. 'How did this happen, Malfoy?'

'You-Know-Who came back,' Draco whispered. 'And then, we came here. We met Lestrange. We ran, Black...'

'Call me Sirius, lad.'

'...We ran into this room and Ron told me about his sister and then everything came out and _Lestrange_ came. Lestrange came, and he killed Ron, and I couldn't do anything to stop him. So, then, I killed Lestrange. I punched him to bits and then I poisoned him. I killed him.'

Sirius tore a strip from the hem of his robes and held it out to Draco. 'Clean your mouth up a bit with that. Good boy. We'll get you out of here soon.'

Draco stared at the mess on the floor. 'I'm as bad as my father.'

'No you're not.'

'I killed him. I'm as bad...'

'Boy, he'd have turned around and killed you in the next minute. You're very brave.'

Draco shook his head. The man didn't understand. 'I killed him. I hated him, I wanted to murder him, and I did.'

'Malfoy, people everywhere want to kill other people. It's called being human. I've wanted to kill Snape before and I know he's wanted to see me dead—'

'But I did it!' Draco shouted.

'Right,' Sirius growled. 'And you'd have been dead yourself otherwise, so you had good cause. There's an end to it.'

'Do you mean I was right to do that?'

'Right, no. But certainly not wrong. Not evil. Now, can you get up?'

With a great deal of help from Sirius, Draco managed to stand. He staggered uncertainly for a bit, not quite certain what had happened to his legs to turn them to such a pile of useless baggage, then righted himself.

'You can walk?' Draco nodded. 'Good.'

Sirius glanced at Draco's hands. He bent down and tore another strip of fabric from his robe. 'Wipe the blood off.'

Draco did so, feverishly. Sirius went and stooped over Ron's body. He reached out and did what Draco had been unable to do. Then he pulled the corpse up and hefted Ron over his shoulder. His expression, when he looked back at Draco, was dead.

'Come on. Snape's taking care of the wards. We're to meet him back at the first one.'

Draco followed him, trying not to pay undue attention to the way Ron's head rolled lifelessly against his back. He noticed that the bottom of the door to Lestrange's cell had been smashed apart. That must have been how he got out.

'Why did he still have a wand?' he muttered. 'Couldn't have done it without a wand...'

'Lestrange was found without a wand,' Sirius said. 'He was searched thoroughly, but he must have found some way of hiding it.'

'Couldn't he have escaped before now?'

'For what?' Black scowled. 'His dear master was gone, he'd have been on the run...and he would have had to get around every Dementor in Azkaban to get out. Where would be the..._fun_...in that?'

Draco shuddered. They continued in silence; each of them locked into his own dark thoughts.

The prison cells around them, too, were utterly silent now, though there was nothing to show that anyone other than Lestrange had broken out. The Dementors must have had a terrible effect on the inmates. There wasn't even any sign of rodents along the passages.

They passed the place where the Dementors had set upon them. The area was empty now; devoid of any evidence of the desperate skirmish that had taken place. Draco drew his robes closer about him and closed his eyes. He didn't want to have to think about it.

A warm hand on his wrist pulled him short and caused him to open his eyes.

'I'm not letting you knock yourself out against a wall,' Black said. 'I couldn't carry you both, and there will still be Dementors around here somewhere. They may not find us, but you need to be alert in case.' 

'Sorry.'

'You've no need to apologise, Malfoy.'

Sirius led him on. Draco did keep an eye out for Dementors as he went, but found he couldn't conjure the nerve-twitching fear that had kept him alert before. Once or twice he stumbled against a cleft in the stonework floor.

'Try to keep upright.'

'Yes...'

They turned a final corner, and at the end of this last tunnel Draco saw a door, hanging slightly ajar.

'Snape should be back soon. Come on.'

They picked up their pace a little in heading for the door. Draco followed Sirius into the little room beyond and, at a gesture from the man, closed the portal. 

'Snape will just have to knock,' Black said, laying Ron out on the floor.

Draco looked about him. The room was cramped, even with only the three of them inside. It was completely featureless except for one complex line of runes carved along the stone of the walls. The runes bore close similarity to the sigils that Professor Figg had scribbled with her stub of chalk during the midnight lesson less than a week ago.

'Why weren't runes cast around Hogwarts in our third year?'

Sirius gave a low, brittle laugh. 'No good if I was found in the grounds, and there was no other way of apprehending me, was it? Besides, Arabella is the best person for a job like that and she was guarding Harry's home...' He rocked back on his heels, staring down at Ron's corpse, and ran a hand over his face with a low, tired moan. 'How did all this happen?'

'I think I know,' Draco said. His mouth grew dry and he sat down, back braced against the door. 'I think it might be my fault.'

'You're not responsible for this, Malfoy. How can it be your fault?'

Draco closed his eyes. 'I think I went too far with Pansy...'

'I've neither the energy nor the patience left for riddles. Tell me what you've got to do with this in plain English.'

'Pansy Parkinson...we've been friends, after a fashion, for years. She's always doted on me. I didn't like it much, but I've put up with it until lately. This year, she found out some things about me that she didn't like. She—she tried to blackmail me into changing, but I wouldn't. Couldn't, whatever she said...'

'What did she want you to do?'

'To be with her.'

'And you couldn't do that?' Black's voice held a coil of anger within it. Draco wanted to stop, but the truth serum wouldn't allow it.

'I couldn't, no. I can't stand being touched by girls, and she _would_ want me to touch her. I just can't. It's...it's to do with something that happened to me during the last summer holidays.'

Draco looked at Sirius, pleading with him not to ask any more. For a second Black looked murderous, but something shifted in his eyes and he nodded, slowly. 'This is to do with what you did at the beginning of the school year, isn't it?' 

Draco covered his mouth, nodding. 'Harry told you?'

'Dumbledore told me he and Snape saved you from killing yourself. Whatever happened to you, it must have been terrible.'

'Yes.' Draco relaxed a little. At least Black didn't know everything.

'Go on.'

'At the last gathering, Pansy became a Death Eater. The Dark Lord said something about her having already proven her loyalty. I think she must have told him I wasn't a true Death Eater. She'd worked it out; she'd been watching me all year. But I thought I'd thrown her off, and…we've known each other for so long. I just didn't think she'd betray all of that because of...'

Sirius's hands curled into fists. 'You, boy...'

'I know. I'm an idiot, I should have said something before now, I should have done something to stop her...'

'What could you have done?' Black said bitterly.

'Nothing,' Draco whispered, and Sirius said it in the same second. They stared at each other. Black's shoulders sagged.

'Well, there's even less to be done about it now.' He looked up sharply at a rap on the door. Draco stood and pulled it open. Snape stepped inside, his eyes immediately falling on Ron.

'Is he—?' 

'Yes,' Sirius said.

Snape swore. 'Let's get out of this forsaken place.'

Sirius bundled Ron back onto his shoulder, and nodded. They headed back out of the room.

Snape took the lead, half-running through the passages and keeping close into the shadows. Draco almost tripped over in his effort to catch up, and was only saved by the speed of Sirius's hand as it batted out to the side to catch him.

'Don't worry about keeping up with him. You'll be fine as long as you can stay near me, all right?'

'All right.'

'Snape,' Sirius called, 'Do you actually know how to get out of here?' 

'I don't know how you got out, but I remember where they took me when the Ministry finally accepted that I was no longer in league with the Death Eaters.' 

Black's lips twisted. 'No longer,' he echoed quietly.

Snape paused a moment later, and squinted down a narrow passageway to his right.

'Something wrong?'

'Just thinking…this way.'

Snape turned right and strode on. They came upon a tightly spiralling flight of stairs. This time it was Sirius who needed Draco's help to keep upright under the weight of Ron's body as they hurried downward. The stairway was a long one. Draco judged that they must have made their way down several stories by the time they reached the end.

Barely three feet from the end of the flight lay a door of iron bars, securely padlocked. The lock didn't respond at all to Snape's _alohamora_.

'This is where being thin was to my advantage last time,' Sirius muttered.

Snape grunted, searching in his pockets for something. Draco took the opportunity to sit on the bottom step and let his mind and breath catch up to him. He felt a brief wave of nausea, but managed to hold it back.

Snape seemed to find what he was looking for, and pulled out a replica of the silver wand Draco had in his pocket. He laid it against the padlock, eyes dark.

'Right. _Alohamora_.'

There was a creaking moan, as if the lock was fighting the spell, and a spark of light released itself from the wand. The padlock crumbled to dust and the door swung open. They hurried out into the tunnel beyond.

There were actually windows down one side of the walls here. Draco could see starlight scattered in them, and felt as though a small weight had been lifted from his shoulders. A chilled wind blew through the casements, smelling of salt.

'Not much further,' Sirius said. His voice held a note of relief.

They made their way down a few more flights of stairs, and Draco slowly became aware of a churning roar somewhere below and outside the castle. Snape led them through a final passage, to another door, which had been left unlocked.

'No one's expected to be able to get this far from the cells,' Snape said, swinging the door open. They followed him past. 'We ought to lock it, though. Of all things, I don't want the Dementors drifting down here and getting loose.' He laid the little wand against the latch and murmured, '_Obserare_.'

A small, but exceptionally nasty-looking, padlock materialised around the latch.

The smell of salt and the roaring sound were much stronger now, and echoed upward in the cavern they found themselves in. There was a narrow path leading from the door to one more flight of stairs. Thin air lay to the right of the path, and Draco glanced down into the darkness as he made his way down the steps. He saw waves—not especially large ones, but rough.

A small dock jutted away from the prison walls at the bottom of the stairs. Moored to it was a single boat, rocking in the water.

'We're going to get out in that?' 

'We only need it to stay afloat until we're out of Azkaban's walls. We'll Apparate away after that.' Sirius looked dubious even as he spoke. The boat was quite small and looked very old.

'I can't Apparate.'

'I'll take you,' Snape said. 'You get in first, Black.'

Snape and Draco held the boat as steady as they could as Sirius clambered onto it and set Ron down.

'Now you, Draco.'

The boat gave a little lurch as Draco stepped across. He toppled to the bottom, and was helped up by Black. Snape made a running jump into the boat, which caused it to dip and sway dangerously.

'Careful,' Sirius growled.

Snape ignored him. He drew a knife from its sheath somewhere inside his robes and slashed through the rope that tied the boat to Azkaban, and cried, 'Forward!'

The boat set off, rocking wildly across the waves. Seawater splashed over its bow, spattering them with spray. Ron's body flopped about absurdly on the boat's bottom. Slowly, the boat edged towards an opening in the cavern walls, studded with stars. Draco pinned his sights on the opening as though it was his life's goal to get that far, and willed the boat to move faster. After what seemed an eternity, they crawled beyond it.

Snape nodded at Sirius. 'You'll be able to take Weasley?'

'Yes.' 

'Good. Draco, come here.'

Draco shifted closer to Snape and felt the Potions Master's arms close around him from behind, pulling him against the man's chest. Snape leaned down so that his mouth was by Draco's ear and said quietly, 'Just try to relax. Think about nothing other than getting to Hogsmeade.'

Draco nodded and laid his hands over Snape's, settling into him. He closed his eyes and heard Snape say firmly, 'The Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade!' 

The pull of a Portkey was nothing compared to the rush of Apparition. Draco gasped as he watched his view of the world dance away from him, leaving a void of melting colours and shadows that whispered and chattered. The only thing he was firmly aware of, was Snape's arms around him. 

The world burst across his vision again as he felt his feet thud against a floor. Snape released Draco as soon as he was steady.

'_Lumos_.' 

Light fell on a room of dust and broken furniture. Sirius was already there, leaning against the wall, panting. Beside him was a hole in the wall just large enough for a person to squeeze through.

'We need to get a message to Dumbledore,' Sirius said. 'He needs to know what's happened…' 

There was a dust-filled fireplace behind them. Snape pointed his wand at it. 

'_Incendio_.' He muttered a spell, and Dumbledore's head appeared amongst the flames.

'You're out?' The Headmaster said.

'Yes. The wards are all as strong as they'll ever be, but…' 

'Severus?' 

Draco spoke up. 'One of the prisoners got out—Lestrange. He's…he's dead now, but before we could stop him…Ron's dead too, sir.' 

In the Headmaster's eyes, the lights suddenly went out. 'Did you bring his body back?' 

'Yes,' Snape said.

'Hurry to Hogwarts. We'll be waiting for you.'

'Yes, sir.' 

The vision of Dumbledore's head disappeared, and they crawled through the hole in the wall: Sirius first, dragging Ron after him; Snape followed, and Draco brought up the rear, spilling out into a small tunnel. He followed the others around a bend and then downhill, bent low as he could manage. The slope ended after a time, but the tunnel continued for much, much longer.

_It must lead straight to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade_, Draco thought.

There was a steep rise and a hollow at the end of the tunnel; Sirius handed Ron to Snape and climbed upward and through the hole. With a grimace, Snape lifted Ron into Black's waiting hands, and then slithered upward himself. Draco pulled himself through the hole and found himself emerging through a gap in the roots of a tree. Sirius stood a foot away, with one hand on a knot in the trunk. Draco looked up, and recognised the Whomping Willow, its branches frozen mid-whomp.

Snape helped him to his feet and they hurried towards the castle, tripping and stumbling in their haste. There was the faintest hint of dawn in the sky as they pushed the castle doors open and threw themselves inside.

Dumbledore, most of the Professors, and Harry were already there, and a knot of people moved forward to meet them. There was a rush of shocked murmuring at the sight of Ron's body, and helpful hands relieved Sirius of him. 

There were distraught whispers, and assurances, and people slapping them on the back and trying to tell them how well they'd done. Snape stood brittle as a twig, and Sirius was swaying. His eyes rolled suddenly and he dropped like a stone; Snape's hands flashed out to catch him before he hit the floor.

Draco couldn't bring himself to pay attention to any of this. By Dumbledore's left side, Harry watched as Ron and Sirius were carried away—Sirius to the Hospital Wing; Ron to somewhere unknown. Draco saw the hysteria and disbelief rise in his eyes as he stumbled apart from the crowd and ran away, pelting down the hall.

Draco took one look at Dumbledore's grave face, and raced after Harry. He couldn't face the interminable questions or comfort right now. Harry was more important.

Harry seemed to be aware that he was being followed, and ran faster, twisting around corners with panicked agility. It was all Draco could do not to lose sight of him.

'Harry—!'

He whirled about, his eyes wild. 'Don't!' he screamed. 

Draco stopped a little way from him, shocked. Harry turned away, sank down against the nearest wall. He smothered his face with his hands. Draco sat beside him, drawing deep breaths and watching him carefully.

After a moment, Harry's shoulders began to shake. Draco's breath hitched. 'Oh, Harry…' 

An audible sob shook his slight frame, and Draco felt the corners of his eyes prickle. Cautiously, he reached out a hand and placed it around Harry; ready to pull away the instant he was shaken off.

But he wasn't. Draco drew Harry slowly to him, and the boy buried his head against his chest, crying bitterly. His fingers curled in Draco's robes.

Draco looked down at the dark head, and held him tighter as tears began to trickle down his own face.

'I'm so sorry, Harry…I couldn't, couldn't stop it…couldn't do a thing…' 

The helplessness and pain he'd held down to that point rushed out of him. Draco rocked Harry in his arms, mumbling and weeping uncontrollably. They held each other close, mourning for a dear friend and a treasured enemy.

No one came to bother them, and they continued to cry together until it was impossible to shed another tear. Draco had no idea of the time. Harry's breathing had grown slowly even again, and to Draco's amazement, he hadn't pulled out of the embrace. Draco sat with him a while longer, listening to the soft hiss of his breath.

'Harry?' he whispered. 'We'll have to go soon…' He cupped Harry's head in one hand and shifted around to look into his face. His eyes softened.

Harry's eyes were closed, and his face in the relaxed visage of slumber. His breath issued from lips slightly parted, whispering in and out.

'You shouldn't tempt me like this, Harry…' Draco brushed an few errant strands of hair from Harry's face and ran his fingers lightly over the jagged scar on his forehead, over his eyelids, over his lips…

Draco shook himself. He wouldn't take advantage of Harry again, not like this. It wasn't fair. He slipped an arm under Harry's legs, wrapped the other around his shoulders such that Harry's head was leant against his shoulder, and gathered him up. Draco stood, a little unsteadily, and carried him to Gryffindor tower, staring down at his soft face all the while.

He paused uncertainly on reaching the Fat Lady's portrait.

'What do you want?' she said, looking down from her portrait. She held a handkerchief in one hand, and her eyes looked red-rimmed.

'Let us in. Please.' Draco nodded down at Harry. 'For him.' 

The Fat Lady nodded. 'I've heard the news,' she whispered, as the portrait swung aside. 'So terrible…' 

Draco climbed into the Gryffindor common room and looked about, nervously. The room was empty; there were two doors to one side. If the Gryffindors' set up was anything like the Slytherins', Draco guessed that the right door to take was the one on the left. He opened it with one hand and crept up the spiral staircase beyond, then opened the first dormitory door he came across and poked his head inside. He only heard two sets of snores issuing from the curtained beds.

Draco slipped inside and drifted to one of the silent beds, opening the curtains a little to see whether it was empty. Seamus Finnegan was sprawled under the covers. Draco dropped the curtain and turned to the next quiet bed. It, thankfully, was unoccupied. Draco pulled the curtains aside and placed Harry on the mattress.

Harry hadn't stirred in all the time it had taken to get him here. Draco sat on the edge of the bed, mesmerised by him. His gaze shifted to Harry's feet and, gently, he undid the laces of Harry's shoes and slipped them off, stowing them by the bed. He lifted Harry's torso, half-wishing he would wake, and pulled the covers back. Draco laid Harry back down on the pillow, and pulled the sheets over him. He stood, still staring at him.

Draco stayed there a moment, fighting with himself. He won, and gave in to the desire that was surging through him.

He bent down and pressed his lips against Harry's cheek, salted with grief. Still he didn't stir.

Draco straightened up. 'Sweet dreams, Harry,' he whispered, and left.


	12. Hyena Emerges

**Rating: ****R**

**Warnings: The 15 Years Rule continues. Herein will be found: slash.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.**

**Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.**

**Thanks To: K. Ashley, Blaze, Scratches (Pansy will die, but it won't be for a very long while yet, and certainly not as a result of anything she's done to this point. As for Draco putting Harry in Ron's bed—I considered that at one point, but thought it would be too cruel for Harry at this point.) , ola (Lestrange needed to be killed, and quickly, or Draco would have been taken as well. The only person still alive and close enough to stop him was Draco himself, so he had to be the one to do it—Snape was taking care of the wards and Sirius was still over ten minutes away. The guilt of the killing is something Draco will have to learn to cope with on his own, in time.), Jessica, Kearie, Evil Windstar, kristy, darklites, DancingRain, Canarde, Kim (I had to pull Ron out of the story because he refused to change enough to fit any more into the plot; I used the Azkaban ploy because he should at least have a heroic death. That said, I'm afraid he won't be coming back. Gone is gone. I'm sorry.), Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, V, valacirca, Wednesday, Penelope-Z,, Demeter, S. Maldiva (You're right, all the children are going to have to learn quickly to grow up and manage with death, although it won't always be at such close quarters as Ron's was. His death is going to have quite widespread effects. However, don't be so quick to leap for Pansy's throat. So far we only have Draco's assumption that she was the one responsible for leaking their true loyalties to Voldemort.), Kaylin, Cindelius, Fan, stolenlogic, BelleMalFoi, djiinx, Yanagi-sen, bwaybaby79 (Ron and Draco were put together so often because I wanted to try to get them to leave the old enmity behind. Unfortunately, stubborn souls that they are, it came too late.), MarsIsBRightTonight, Amy-la (Ron's death became inevitable and he won't be made better afterwards, I'm afraid.), Twilights Death, chriseee667, Maddie (I'm thrilled you're so enthusiastic about the story, and I'm sorry it's taken so long for the next chapter to get to you. Thank you for waiting.), Myr (I know. I'm sorry.), elwing (Yes, Ron's dead, and he won't be coming back to life. Hermione's reaction is in the earlier portion of this chapter.), silver glass (There were a few reasons I had to kill Ron. First and foremost, his refusal to make any move to accept Draco up to this point made him too rigid a character to remain in the story. Secondly, it's highly unlikely that all the main characters would survive a war against Voldemort should they become personally involved. Finally, Ron's death is going to have serious effects on events to come.), Josephine, Antinua, Kassie, bondagechic, (The lyrics are a habit I picked up from reading Rhysenn's _Irresistible Poison. The lengthy chapters are my own habit. I couldn't be concise if I had a time bomb taped under my seat.), darklites, umi, saiko, ashedraven, Shukumei-of-another-world, and Arwena._**

Thank you to everyone for being so patient with this chapter. It took a great deal longer than I had anticipated.

Also, Farseeker, Minna and I have begun a Yahoo Group, should anyone be interested in joining. We're right here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/voodoodollavengers. 

All Torn Down: Hyena Emerges 

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,

And what strength I have's mine own;

Which is most faint: now tis true,

I must be here confin'd by you.

…

But release me from my bands

With the help of your good hands.

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill, or else my project fails,

Which was to please. Now I want

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;

And my ending is despair,

Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,

Which pierces so that it assaults

Mercy itself and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,

Let your indulgence set me free.

            --_Epiloge; The Tempest_, William Shakespeare

            A gentle, warm pressure on his cheek coaxed Harry from his dreams in the same way a whisper in the wind might prick one's ears to listen for more.

            'Sweet dreams, Harry.'

            His eyelids fluttered at the low thrum of Draco's voice, so very near him. There was a rustle of movement close by as he roused himself into wakefulness and when Harry's eyes opened fully, the curtains were swinging back into place around his bed. He pulled them a few inches aside and peered through, catching a glimpse of Draco's silhouette as he shut the dormitory door behind him. He settled back into bed and pulled the covers close around him.

            'Sweet dreams, Draco.'

~~~*~~~

            A heavy weight settled in Harry's chest when next he woke. Blinking sleep from his eyes, still only half-aware of the world, he opened the curtains. Stinging sunlight streamed through the dormitory window, making him wince.

            _It's late. Where's Ron?_

            It wasn't like his friend to let him lie in so long—Seamus or Dean might, and Neville was usually up too early to be bothered rousing him, but Ron was something like an alarm clock. He was always there, if only in the nick of time.

            Harry staggered to the next bed and shoved the curtains around it aside. He froze. The bed was empty; the blankets still twisted from the night before when Harry, having worked himself into a state of panic over Draco's safety, had woken Ron and dragged him…

            …To his death.

            The weight in his chest doubled to the point of pain as memories of the night before slammed with full force back into his consciousness. He fought back nausea and prickling tears, but couldn't stop the dry sob that rattled from his throat. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any more.

            — 

— — Ron, red in the face with anger, telling him in no uncertain terms that _he would go to Azkaban— —_

     — —The tense wait in Dumbledore's office for them to return, finally ended by Sirius's face appearing in the fireplace to tell them that they had got out...and Draco's voice dimly heard from behind, saying something about Lestrange, and then that Ron was...was...— —

— —The huddled group at the door, suddenly swamped by worried teachers; Ron's unmarked body being taken from Sirius's arms; Sirius dropping like a stone into Snape's hands and the sudden clench of fear that he, too, was dead— —

         — —Flight through Hogwarts and a vision of Ron's face; the words 'A_vada kedavra,' dripping poison on his heart— —_

                                      — —Draco, who didn't try to pour useless consolation over him; who was as stricken as Harry and who was the last person to see Ron alive. Who had held him close and simply grieved— —

            — —

            _Need him._

            Harry took an unsteady few steps back from the bed before he could convince his legs that a turn toward the dormitory door was possible. He staggered over, threw it open, and all but tumbled down the staircase, his blood surging with the sudden urgency to be near Draco—the only person who could possibly understand.

            Harry stopped in his tracks on reaching the common room. It wasn't empty. A bushy-haired figure hunched in one of the armchairs, staring blankly at the cold fireplace. Hermione didn't even look up at his entrance, noisy though it must have been.

            'H-Hermione?'

            Not a twitch. Harry went to the armchair and crouched down so that he was in full view of her. Hermione's eyelids dipped in a slow blink and she focused on him. She swallowed.

            'Harry.' Her voice was low and tight, as though she was trying to keep it under control. 'Dumbledore told us all, this morning...'

            Harry reached out to take her hand, but she flinched away and abruptly stood up, almost knocking him over. Her fists clenched.

            'He's—he _was—an idiot,' she said, her voice suddenly shaking. 'A stupid, stupid—'_

            'Hermione!'

            'He was! He didn't have to go. Why did he go, Harry? He should have known better than to run off somewhere like that. Grown, powerful wizards have died in that place! Why did he go?'

            Harry swallowed. 'My fault.'

            '_His choice!' Hermione's shoulders rolled through a terrible shudder, but she resisted Harry when he reached out to touch her. She swallowed and looked back at him, her eyes shadowed and gathering tears. 'Why did he have to make the choice that killed him? Why couldn't he have stayed with me?'_

            'Hermione, I don't—I can't...' Harry broke off and gave a hopeless sigh. 'I should have stopped him. I should have tried harder, and I didn't, and I didn't even think it was possible for...for something like this to happen. I'm sorry...'

            Hermione's lower lip trembled and she lowered her head to Harry's shoulders as he stepped forward again to comfort her. He raised his hands around her as she sobbed, and he stroked her hair back wordlessly, not knowing how else to console her. He wanted desperately to cry with her, but found he was unable to shed a single tear.

            'I want him back, Harry,' Hermione wept. 'Can't someone bring him back? Please? I wanted to see him. I know he's in the castle. I asked Dumbledore, but I wasn't allowed. Was he—was it that terrible?'

            Harry began to sway slightly. It seemed to calm her a little, if only that. 'No,' he murmured. He recalled the limpness of Ron's body and the blank face. _And yes._

            'Then why wouldn't he let me?'

            'Don't know.'

            A creak at the common room's entrance made Harry lift his head a little. The Fat Lady's portrait had swung aside, and Draco was climbing through the portal. He paused when he met Harry's gaze, his eyes travelling over he and Hermione in uncertainty. The portrait slipped back into place behind him.

            Harry mouthed, _Help me, over Hermione's shoulder. Draco hesitated a moment more, then drew silently across the room, a brooding kind of fear that Harry couldn't quite understand rising in his eyes. When he was near to them, he licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then, looking at Harry with soft reproach, he took a breath and wrapped his arms around them both._

            Hermione tensed at being embraced from behind and turned her head to look at her other comforter, but what Harry registered most clearly was the way that Draco's hands rested against his back, trembling violently. Suddenly he understood the fear. He raised one hand from where it encircled Hermione and gave the nearest of Draco's arms a gentle squeeze.

            Hermione, having identified Draco, was content to remain in the embrace—or, Harry thought, she just didn't care. She seemed to have slipped into a maudlin world of her own, filled with tears, regret, and memories of Ron.

            Draco was trying to speak again. His mouth moved silently, and when he did begin to form sound, he stammered and spoke too quietly to be heard over Hermione. Harry moved his hand to touch Draco's shoulder, and they stared at each other. Draco's eyes didn't move from Harry's as he gathered himself and began to speak clearly.

            'Hermione,' he said, 'Ron told me something, last night, before...it's, he...it's something you should know, I think. He would like you to know.'

            Hermione shifted so that she could see Draco more clearly, and wiped at her eyes in an effort to pull herself together. 'W-what is it?'

            Draco looked down at her. 'He told me he loved you.' Hermione gaped, tears rolling down her cheeks. 'He meant it. He'd drunk the truth serum.'

            Hermione bit her lip; her hands twisted in the folds of her skirt. What began somewhere in her throat as a whimper rose to a despairing wail:

            'He never finished _Hogwarts!'_

            Draco stared at her in blank confusion; as it was, it took Harry a moment to decipher what it was that Hermione meant.

            'The book,' he said. 'The history. He never finished reading it.'

            Harry withdrew from Draco and Hermione, reluctantly and with a pang of guilt at the surge of panic he saw in Draco's eyes as he was left without any kind of support.

            'I'll just be a second,' he promised, and darted back up the stairway and into the boys' dormitory.

            Harry ran to Ron's trunk, threw it open and half-emptied it before he concluded that _Hogwarts: A History wasn't there. He thought for a second, and checked under the bed. There was nothing there bar a few cobwebs that may well have caused Ron nightmares for a week, had he ever been aware of their presence._

            Frowning, Harry lifted the mattress to see whether Ron had hidden it in the frame of the bed for some reason. As he did so, the pillow tipped and rolled to the floor. A familiar tome beneath it followed with a thud.

            Harry bounded across Ron's bed to retrieve the book, picked his way out of the dishevelled room, and flew down the stairway.

            Draco and Hermione had fallen back into the armchair. Hermione was curled up into a corner and Draco patted her head awkwardly, unnerved as he was by the closeness. He looked up as Harry came into view, and stood. Harry nodded thanks to him and sat beside Hermione, pushing _Hogwarts: A History into her lap._

            'What's so special about it, Hermione?' he asked softly.

            With shaking hands, she grasped the volume and opened it to the back inside cover. A small, sealed envelope was attached to the cover. Hermione pulled it away and opened it, lifting out a square piece of parchment that was folded away inside. She handed it to Harry, who ran his eyes over the simple message inscribed on it:

            '_Dear Ron,_

_                        The past is done; all that is left to find is our hereafter. Meet me at nine o'clock in the Divination Tower tonight. I have something to tell you._

_            Yours always,_

_            Hermione.'_

            Harry passed the note to Draco, who read it over quickly. Hermione rested her head in her hands, her weeping having quietened.

            'I was going to tell him that I love him.' She shook her head, fingers raking through her hair. 'I'd have said it in an instant if he'd ever told me how he felt.' Hermione looked to Draco. 'What happened in there?'

            Draco's eyes darkened. 'The prisoners began a riot when they saw us, and that's how Lestrange got out of his cell. We'd already got away, but a group of Dementors ambushed us. Ron and I got separated from Professor Snape and Sirius while we were fighting them—the two of us couldn't cope alone, so we ran back. Lestrange found us. He seemed to know us both, somehow.

            'We hid in an old cell and Ron told me that his family had already lost a child to Lestrange. We waited until we heard someone coming toward the cell, and—' Draco sighed. 'We thought it was Snape and Sirius looking for us, but when we opened the door, Lestrange was there. He went for Ron first, then cast Cruciatus over me when he realised that I was trying to find a weapon to stop him. Once I was knocked down, he killed Ron.'

            'What kept Lestrange from going after you too?' Harry whispered.

            Draco's mouth tightened. 'I killed him.'

            Hermione gasped. 'How? Did you use Avada—?'

            'No,' Draco said, then added quietly; 'I never mastered that spell. I tried to punch his head in, but that wouldn't work. So I poisoned him.'

            There was a long silence, which lent a confessional aura to their close huddle about the armchair. Neither Harry nor Hermione questioned where Draco had come by so potent a poison, and he seemed grateful for that. Eventually Hermione ran a hand through her hair and stood up, clasping _Hogwarts to her chest._

            'I'm glad you killed him,' she said, not looking directly at Draco. 'It sounds awful, I know—but I'm glad that monster's gone. Thank you.'

            Draco stared at her as though he didn't believe what he was hearing. Then he blinked and gave a short nod.

            'I'm going upstairs. I need to rest and...and think about things. I probably won't be down again for a while.'

            Draco nodded again. 'They still haven't found anyone,' he told her as she moved toward the doorway to the girls' dormitories. She paused.

            'Is that why you came in here? Why the Fat Lady let you in?'

            'Mainly.' Draco didn't even look at Harry. He didn't need to, to be understood. Harry could almost feel the direction of his emotions. Hermione simply nodded.

            'Who hasn't found who?' Harry said.

            'This morning, every one of the Death Eaters in the school had gone except for one, and after breakfast, he vanished somewhere too. The teachers have been searching the castle and the grounds all day, but I don't think they'll find anyone.' Draco stared at the floor. 'Seems as though our detour into Azkaban was just meant to be a monumental diversion.'

            'Seems ridiculous,' Hermione muttered. 'A cruel joke.'

            'I know.'

            'Who was the one still here at breakfast?' Harry asked, frowning.

            'The seventh year Gryffindor who stayed at school over the Christmas break. His name's Kieran Harper.'

            'Why would he still be here when the rest of them were gone?'

            'I don't know.'

            'I hope they do find him,' Hermione said suddenly, harshly. 'I hope someone drags him out of his hiding hole and teaches him exactly why the Death Eaters lost last time.'

            Hermione broke off, looking aghast at her own words. She shook herself, and turned back, crossing the room in a few quick steps to hug Harry, and then Draco, who gave a soft, strangled cry but didn't actually push her away. Hermione drew back.

            'Sorry,' she said. 'And thank you.' And she retreated to her dormitory, leaving Harry alone with a shocked and trembling Draco.

            'Are you all right?'

            'No.' Draco turned and strode to the portrait, tapping the back of the painting softly with his knuckles. 'Let me out.'

            Harry got up and followed as the Fat Lady swung aside and Draco moved out into the corridor. 'Thank you for helping me,' he said quietly.

            Draco sagged against the wall as the portal closed beside him. He folded his arms around him as if to hide the shaking of his hands, then gave up and allowed them to drop at his sides. 'Please don't ask it of me again.'

            'I didn't mean just with Hermione.' Harry leaned against the wall by him. 'Thank you for last night, as well.'

            'I needed it as much as you did, Harry.'

            'I know.' Harry bit his lip. 'You didn't have to carry me back to bed, though.'

            'I couldn't have just sat in the corridor with you in my arms all night.'

            Harry allowed himself a small smile. 'I think you could have.' Draco didn't respond to his words, but his head bobbed a little when Harry placed one hand over his and left it there. The Fat Lady was staring at them strangely from her portrait, but he didn't really care. 'You kissed me again, didn't you? On the cheek, when you put me to bed.'

            Draco gasped. He stared, mortified, at Harry, a pink flush gracing his features, but looked away quickly. 'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'I promise, I swear I won't do it again.'

            Harry's fingers closed gently around Draco's, and he whispered, 'Please?'

            Draco made a pained noise, somewhere between a disbelieving snort and a sob. 'Don't torment me.'

            Harry stepped around in front of him, and raised his free hand to trace the lines of Draco's downcast face and tangle his fingers in the edges of his silver hair. He didn't look up. 'I'm perfectly serious, Draco.'

            Draco raised his head slowly. The look in his eyes when Harry saw them was desperately pained and pleading. It was as staggering a blow as outright rejection would have been.

            _My God, he's as afraid to touch me as he was to be near Hermione. What have I done to him?_

            Swallowing, Harry moved closer, so that their faces were bare inches apart. He placed Draco's hand on his waist and cupped his face in both hands. Draco's eyes fell half-closed.

            'Harry...'

            'Please,' he said again. Harry leaned forward and brushed their lips together, ignoring the Fat Lady's soft gasp somewhere nearby.

            The hand on his waist tightened its grip convulsively, and Draco's mouth quivered against his. There was a brief but suspended moment in which Draco made no movement at all and Harry feared that he had done the wrong thing; that he should just pull away, apologise, and run. Then Draco's arms wrapped tight around him, pulling them as close together as was humanly possible, and his doubts exploded like so many dandelion clocks blown in the wind.

            Harry's eyes fell closed, and his fingers roamed over Draco's face in a bid to learn the shape of him by heart. A soft moan rippled from Draco's throat at his touch. As his lips parted, Harry's tongue sought its way out and ran over the soft curve of Draco's lower lip. The rush of warm air banished from Draco's lungs into Harry's and the wet, secret sensation of his tongue coaxing Harry's further into his mouth were blissful intoxication.

            For a time that slipped away far too quickly, Harry's world was comprised solely of Draco and the kiss they shared. Nothing else mattered.

            Certainly not the footsteps that sounded down the corridor, heading towards them with a measured pace, as Draco cradled his head in one hand and whispered tenderness into his mouth.

            Nor the squeak the Fat Lady made when the footsteps paused. The sound of a throat being cleared somewhere behind him barely existed to Harry.

            'The pair of you have no idea how much I am loathe to separate you at the moment...'

            The voice, unfortunately, was one with which Harry had too often had to contend with to be discounted as insignificant. He withdrew from Draco with wholehearted reluctance, taking a few seconds to catch his breath and to absorb the shimmering, precious emotion in Draco's eyes. Then he turned to face Snape, a trace of resentful defiance flaring in his eyes.

            The man stood a few feet away, watching them closely, a weariness and additional layer of darkness etched into his features that had not been there a day ago. Nevertheless, a small and unnervingly genuine smile had somehow found its way into his expression.

            '...However, the Headmaster wishes to see you, Potter. I suggest you follow me.'

            Harry nodded. He glanced back at Draco, and was answered before he spoke with a brief kiss to his lips and a shy smile. Harry smiled back at him and stepped forward to meet Professor Snape, who turned and began to lead him briskly back up the passage. As Harry caught up, he caught a whiff of a familiar but unidentifiable smell from Snape.

            'I suppose the traditional 'I told you so' comes now.'

            'Of course not. I never actually said you should be with Draco.' The Potions Master's eyes flicked sideways at him. 'I _did have my suspicions, however.'_

            Harry flared. 'It was that easy to tell, was it?'

            'There are only so many reasons for a person to blush whenever a kiss is mentioned—especially when the mentioning is several months after the event.'

            Harry could feel his face descending to shades of red he'd never thought possible. Snape's eyebrows arched.

            'There really is no need to be so coy, Potter.'

            'Can't help it,' Harry muttered.

            'He's your first, isn't he?'

            _My first boyfriend? Obviously! Harry knew what Snape meant though, and simply nodded._

            'You're his first, as well. Ever.' Harry looked up, startled, but Snape was staring straight ahead of him. 'I think I ought to let you know that if you ever hurt him, I will make it my personal mission to see that your life is as miserable as possible.'

            'I don't intend to do any such thing,' Harry said, indignant.

            'Remember it.'

            Harry gaped. 'You can't—I mean—you—' He clenched his teeth. '_Why do you care about him so much? __You!'_

            'That is not for you to know.' Snape looked sidelong at him, and shook his head sadly. 'I fear that Minerva will be terribly disappointed with you, Potter.'

            'W-What? Why?'

            'She was so very certain that you were,' Snape snarled suddenly, '_Normal. In that, of course, she meant heterosexual. Perhaps this loss will finally open her mind.'_

            Harry frowned. 'Loss?'

            'She was so sure of you she was willing to put money on it.'

            'What?' Harry stopped in his tracks. 'You _bet on whether or not Draco and I would—' His jaw dropped and hung slack suddenly as realisation hit. 'Oh. O-oh. That's why you were in Hogsmeade together in the first term...'_

            Snape glanced at him, startled. 'Was it really such a momentous occasion?'

            Harry reddened. 'Ron—and I—thought that you were there together because you were, you know—'

            'Together?' Some of the menace Harry was used to slipped back into Snape's voice.

            'Um, yes.'

            Snape gave him a long, slow look. He drew himself up to his full and rather impressive height. 'Mr Potter, let me make it very clear that I would _never do such a singularly foolish nor embarrassing thing. However...out of respect for Ronald Weasley's memory...' his mouth twitched at the edges. '...I can pretend.'_

            Harry's eyes narrowed. 'That will probably give her the shock of her life. You really don't like Professor McGonagall, do you?'

            'It's a private war, Potter, and nothing you should worry yourself about.'

            Harry scowled. 'Of course not.'

            They continued in silence. Harry began to look around, at the tapestries and pictures on the walls, into the classrooms, down a set of stairs Peeves was trying unsuccessfully to coax into moving—anywhere and anything to take his mind off of what Dumbledore would want to talk to him about. He noticed that some of the classrooms weren't empty.

            'School's still running?'

            Snape sighed. 'Hogwarts is in mourning, Harry. You need not worry about that. The school term continues, however, and what you're learning at the moment—especially in your year and the seventh—is extremely important for certain upcoming exams. Officially, no one is allowed out of class.'

            'And unofficially?'

            'Unofficially, it's accepted that Miss Granger, the Weasleys, yourself and Draco are excused at least for today, for fairly obvious reasons. I know that Professor McGonagall wants you back into the rhythm of things as soon as possible, though.'

            Harry nodded. 'I think I'd rather that,' he said, half to himself.

            'It isn't always good just to bury painful memories, Potter.'

            He looked up, not sure whether to scream at the Potions Master or burst into tears. 'I don't want to forget him. He was my best friend, and that's something that I'll never bury. I just don't want to be miserable forever.'

            The sympathetic look Snape gave him as they began to climb a final staircase, least expected as it was of an array of possible expressions, nearly floored Harry. He recalled that Snape, too, had lost some very close friends to Voldemort. Perhaps the professor wasn't so inaccessible as he'd always believed.

            It was then that Harry caught the scent emanating from Snape again, a little stronger and a great deal more incriminating this time.

            'Do you always drink when someone you know dies?'

            Snape's eyes immediately shuttered. 'We all have ways of coping, Potter. You go back to classes...I toast the loss.'

            'Why does Professor Dumbledore let you do it?'

            Snape sighed. 'Dumbledore allows it because he _knows it's how I cope with situations like this. He also knows that I would never take the practice outside of my own quarters and my own time.'_

            'You never go to the Three Broomsticks, though...'

            Snape didn't quite manage to stifle a shudder. 'Too many people to see. It's a private ritual.'

            'Ritual? That's a nice way of putting it. I mean, to the outside world, it'd just look as though you were getting drunk.'

            Snape was beginning to walk stiffly and his jaw tightened. 'I am rarely drunk, Potter.'

            'You passed out when Draco—'

            'For God's sake, don't you ever stop?' Snape glared at him. Harry stared.

            'Sorry.'

            'I should hope so.'

            'But it can't be good for you...'

            Snape's fingers were suddenly digging into Harry's shoulders as he leaned down until they were eye-to-eye. 'Enough. It is my business, not yours. I have been living far longer than you and through far more dangerous times than you have yet seen, so I am _sure I have the hang of it by now. Leave me alone.'_

            Harry stared at him with wide, stunned eyes. The wall of emotion he'd seen in Snape's eyes last time they'd really spoken had returned, and it shocked him as much now as it had before. 'Yes, sir.'

            Snape let go of him and swept on ahead. The rest of the journey to Dumbledore's office was made in stiff-necked silence. Occasionally Harry raised a hand to massage his shoulders; he would probably have bruises there in a few days. 

            On reaching the gargoyle, Snape snapped, 'Fudge!' and immediately turned to leave as the statue jumped aside.

            'Sir,' Harry called at his retreating back. Snape paused, but didn't bother to turn around. 'Um. Sorry for being such a pest. And...and thanks.'

            Snape's voice was rough. 'For what, Potter?'

            'I don't know.' Snape snorted. 'No, I mean...for bringing Draco back all right. And for not teasing me just now.'

            'I never tease, Potter. Taunt, hassle and harangue, yes, but I don't tease.'

            With that, Snape walked away, leaving Harry wondering what the difference was. He shook his head in bewilderment and made his way up the stairway to Dumbledore's office. The oak door, when he reached it, was ajar, and Harry stepped lightly through. The room was crowded with the sudden hush of generations of Headmasters past pausing mid-sentence at his intrusion, leaving the crackling of flames in the fireplace the only sound in the room.

            'Hello, sir.' He couldn't meet Dumbledore's gaze properly. The man looked as though he bore the weight of worlds upon his shoulders.

            'Harry,' the Headmaster raised a sad smile and motioned him to a seat. 'How are you?'

            Harry flushed, suddenly feeling guilty for the few moments of pleasure he'd shared with Draco. 'I'm...all right.'

            'It's good to know that you and Draco have come to an agreement,' Dumbledore said gently after a moment. Harry looked up, goggling at him for a second, before turning red and glancing away again. He stole a glance at one of the portraits on the wall, and reddened further. The Headmaster in the picture winked knowingly at him. 'The Fat Lady informed me of events while you were making your way here. She was most flustered.'

            'Oh.'

            'There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Harry.'

            Harry fidgeted. 'Ron wouldn't like it.'

            'As good a friend as he was to you, Harry, you mustn't allow his ghost to shadow your life.'

            'I'm not going to,' he said, a little too sharply. Dumbledore blinked, and Harry gave a deep sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. 'Sorry. I just wish...' he shrugged. 'Just wish I'd been able to tell him what it's like. _Why.'_

            'I understand.'

            'I'm glad you do, sir. I just wish he had.'

            Dumbledore nodded.

            'Professor, do you know whether Sirius is awake yet?'

            'No, Harry. He's still in the Hospital Wing, if you want to see him. Madam Pomfrey is to send word as soon as he comes to, and you'll be the first to know.'

            'Thank you.'

            'I owled Mr Weasley last night, and he has made arrangements to take Ron home today. He should be here in a few moments. Do you want to see Ron with him, before he's taken away?'

            Harry nodded. 'I think I would. What about Hermione?'

            'Professor Snape should be taking her now. I thought she would want a few moments alone with Ron.'

            'Oh. Why wouldn't you let her go this morning?'

            'I felt that Ginny, Fred and George should have the right to see Ron first. Also...Hermione was extremely distraught in the morning and seeing him straight away might have been too much of a shock. Hopefully she has calmed herself a little since.'

            'I see.'

            Dumbledore rose from his chair and circled his desk until he stood directly in front of Harry, looking down at him with gentle eyes. '_Are you all right, Harry?'_

            Harry's throat tightened. 'If you expect me to just fall apart right now—'

            'I don't expect any such thing from you. I just want to know how you are.'

            'I'm tired, angry at everything and nothing. Lost. Confused.' Harry sucked in a painful breath, closing his eyes. 'There are parts of me that don't understand that he's not there any more. I woke up today and actually went to his bed to wake him up before I remembered.'

            'That's understandable.'

            Harry shook his head. 'I shouldn't forget—'

            He was cut off by the sudden roar of the fire flaring up as it turned green. The figure of Mr Weasley appeared amongst the flames, standing rigid. He stepped out of the fireplace as the flames died back down and nodded at them both. His eyes were bleary, as though he hadn't slept at all during the night, or had been crying, or both. Harry stood, feeling awkward and out of place, as Dumbledore clasped Mr Weasley's hand in welcome.

            'Arthur,' he said. 'I'm so very sorry that you have to go through this again.'

            Mr Weasley wasted no time. 'How did it happen?'

            'Lestrange.'

            Mr Weasley's expression flickered. 'The one who attacked Alastor when he was caught.'

            'Yes. He got out of his cell in the midst of a riot, and found Ron and Draco Malfoy alone in an abandoned cell.'

            'Malfoy was involved?'

            'He tried to stop Lestrange,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'And when he could not, he avenged Ron.'

            'I see.'

            'He believes that Lestrange was responsible for Maggie as well.'

            The muscles in Mr Weasley's throat clenched and he hung his head. 'At least we know for certain now,' he whispered. 'Where is he?'

            'In the Astronomy Tower. Follow me.'

            Harry fell into step beside Mr Weasley as Dumbledore led them both from the room. The older man looked down at him sadly.

            'Voldemort is back,' he said, 'And don't we know it.'

            Harry nodded, not sure what to say to the statement. Mr Weasley raised his voice to speak to Dumbledore, though he still looked at Harry.

            'Molly and I had a lengthy discussion last night. We...we decided that it's perhaps not the best course of action for me to remain a candidate for the Ministry. I'm sorry.'

            Dumbledore shook his head, but didn't stop or turn around. 'I understand, Arthur. It's your choice.'

            'I've already spoken to some of the others in the Ministry, and they're willing to put in for the job. Some of them will certainly give Lucius Malfoy a run for his money; Kenneth Melchior seemed especially eager.'

            Dumbledore's shoulders shook with a brief, subdued chuckle. 'I cannot say that I am surprised.'

            Harry looked between them, confused. 'Why can't you still try for Minister of Magic? You'd be brilliant at it. You'd be able to fight the Death Eaters, right there.'

            'That's part of the problem, Harry,' Mr Weasley said. 'Any of the Dark Lord's followers will know full well how fiercely loyal our family is to the resistance. If we make ourselves even more visible targets than we already are...'

            The end of the sentence hung, unspoken and foreboding, in the air as they began to climb a flight of spiralling stairs that Harry hadn't seen before, and which were longer by far than the flights he usually took to get to classes. The flight climbed for several storeys before spilling into a darkened corridor. Dumbledore worked the illumination spell to shed light on the passage as they passed through it in concentrated silence.

            There was a door towards the end of the passage under which shone a sliver of soft light. Dumbledore opened it with a wave of his wand and allowed the others to step into the next room ahead of him. Mr Weasley gave a stifled sob as the door closed.

            The light that Harry had seen under the door emanated apparently from the floor and walls of the room itself, since there were no windows, and with it rose a chilliness that settled and clung to Harry's bones. In the centre of the space, Ron's body was laid out on a massive stone block. Hermione stood by the block, and looked up as they entered. Snape stood at the back of the room, enveloped in a thin air of detachment.

            Mr Weasley strode forward and bent over the corpse, his face haggard. 'Oh, my boy...' he whispered, 'My poor boy...'

            Harry edged forward slowly. It still felt far too strange to see this, to look at Ron and see only the body. It didn't help that Mr Weasley looked on the brink of tears and Hermione was murmuring her sympathy. A lump rose in his throat as he moved close enough to see Ron's face, looking for all the world as though he were only in a deep, calm slumber. It broke a few seconds later.

            Harry didn't bother to blink back the tears trickling from his eyelids; he didn't much care that Snape was staring at him. His heart and mind were burdened with everything that he wanted to impart to his friend, and now couldn't. The knowledge that this was probably the last time he would see Ron scorched him somewhere deep inside.

            The most he managed to mutter was, 'Bye Ron,' before any attempt at speech failed him.

            Mr Weasley took his wand from his robes and pointed it at his dead son.

            '_Mobilicorpus.' Ron rose from the block and drifted forward at the direction of his father's wand. Dumbledore raised his hands toward the body._

            '_Caecus esse.' Dumbledore's hands brushed over Ron's face as he spoke the spell, and the corpse vanished. Hermione started._

            'W-what did you...'

            'Be calm, Hermione. He's only invisible.'

            Dumbledore opened the door and they crowded into the passage; Mr Weasley in the lead this time while Professor Dumbledore and Snape brought up the rear. They made a sombre procession.

            Harry glanced back at the staircase as they left it to head back to the Headmaster's office, and blinked. It had gone. He looked to Dumbledore, whose eyes sparkled with secret knowledge. He could swear that the Headmaster had not spoken a word or made a movement to invoke a spell.

            They paused on reaching the gargoyle, and Mr Weasley turned to face Harry and Hermione. 'I can't tell you how grateful I am to the both of you for being Ron's friends. I don't believe that he could have found a greater pair of companions given a hundred years.'

            Dumbledore gave the password and Mr Weasley headed up the stairs ahead of everyone else.

            'Harry, you can go now if you wish, but I want to have a word with Hermione.'

            'Yes sir.'

            The Headmaster turned to Snape. 'Thank you for your help today, Severus. I won't make any more demands on your time. I suggest you try to relax.'

            Snape shook his head. 'There still might be a Death Eater in the school grounds somewhere. As long as Minerva and Hagrid keep looking for him, so will I. I wanted to speak with Minerva anyway.'

            Harry fought back the urge to kick Snape in the ankle.

            'I fear we've lost them, Severus.'

            Snape grunted. 'There's still a chance. For once I regret the absence of Black; if he were awake, we could have got a scent by now and found the wastrel. Good day, Headmaster.'

            Harry waved to Hermione and raised a grateful half-smile at Dumbledore before following in the direction that Snape had gone. He had no doubt that the Potions Master was aware of his presence as he drew close, but no words passed between them, even at the point where their paths separated. Snape made his way back down to the dungeons, and Harry went on to Gryffindor Tower.

            Draco had gone. Harry felt a twinge of disappointment. The Fat Lady greeted him with a bright blush, although it was Harry's ears that went red at her muttered remark as he made his way into the common room:

            'Jolly good show, Harry. It's been years since I've been able to see a proper snog...'

            Classes had ended for the moment, so Harry faced a crowd of Gryffindors, all involved in an active discussion. There were no Weasleys in sight, but Neville seemed to be mouthing urgent things at him from the middle of the crowd. The trouble was that Harry was an appalling lip-reader.

             A few people caught sight of him, whispers were made and elbows shoved, and the room fell silent.

            'Hello,' he said, then added, 'Er...Did anyone see Draco here a little while ago? And before anyone asks, I'm all right. I mean—not _all right all right, but...'_

            'What's it like?' Seamus said. A horde of ears cocked to hear his answer.

            'Er...sorry? What's it like to what?'

            'To be in on it all!'

            Harry glanced at Neville, who shrugged helplessly, and the penny dropped. _Dumbledore must have had to tell everyone about the Order when he told them about Ron..._

            'It's...well, what do you want to know?'

            'Why it's been hidden from us for so long, for a start,' a scowling, dark-haired girl from Ginny's year said.

            'What do you do?'

            'Who else is in it?'

            'How do you put up with Malfoy?'

            Harry froze at the last question, called out by an unseen speaker, but he forced himself to answer the rest before he dealt with that one.

            'We meet and try to counter Voldemort's movements while the Ministry still won't officially do anything about him. It's difficult because we have to try to make sure Voldemort doesn't know who's behind it—and the same with the Ministry, at least as long as Fudge was in charge.'

            The dark-haired girl tossed her head, sniffing. 'I think it's terrible of them to do something like that under all of our noses. _Inside the school! What if You-Know-Who did find out? Oh, but wait: he has, and one of us is dead now because of it.'_

            There was a murmur of discontented agreement.

            Harry's fists clenched. 'Ron isn't dead because of anything the Order of the Phoenix did wrong. He went to Azkaban to help two spies who were sent there by Voldemort—' There was a collective wince around the room— 'And he was killed by a crazed criminal who didn't have a clue what was going on outside the prison walls. He knew it was dangerous when he went.'

            'Voldemort still knows now, though, doesn't he? What if he attacks us all here?'

            'Pardon?' Harry's voice was deadly quiet, just loud enough to be heard across the room. 'I'm sorry, did you just say what I think you said? You're standing here, quivering in your boots in case some big bad wizard comes to school, when we're in a place that's supposed to be the safest in the magical world, and one of the world's greatest wizards is here to protect us?'

            The girl began to look edgy and defiant. 'Dumbledore's been lying to us!'

            'No, he hasn't! He didn't say anything about the Order because at the time, it was important to keep everything secret—to protect you all, as much as anything else. Until today, there were Death Eaters everywhere in the school—what sort of information do you think they could have passed on to Voldemort then? Last year, the Ministry told Dumbledore to lie about Cedric Diggory's death to keep Voldemort's reappearance under wraps, but he told everyone the truth instead. That could have cost him his job, but he did it anyway because he wanted us to be prepared!'

            Quiet was all that met Harry's words. Everyone was staring at him very strangely, and he realised that he'd raised his hands sometime during the rant and had been shaking his fists around. He lowered them gingerly.

            _They must think I'm barking mad._

            Neville wormed his way between bodies to get to Harry and patted him on the shoulder. 'It's all right. I know what you mean. I kept trying to tell them, but it just wouldn't get through—especially with some of the younger ones; they're all scared—'

            'So...who else is in the Order?' Dean said. Neville turned around.

            'Why do you want to know?'

            Dean and Seamus shared a glance. 'Well, if we're going to join, we'd better know who we'll be working with.'

            Harry blinked. '_Join?'_

            'Well, yes...'

            'Dumbledore didn't say anything about letting anyone else join the Order,' Neville said in a low voice as murmurs and nudgings sprung up.

            'At a guess, I'd say he wasn't too pointed about people not joining, either, was he?'

            'No.'

            They looked at each other and silently concurred: _Safest first._

            'Most of the Hogwarts staff are a part of it. There are a few from the Ministry, too—Mr and Mrs Weasley—'

            Colin Creevey snapped his fingers. 'I _wondered why Ginny didn't seem very surprised when Dumbledore told us!'_

            'Right, and there's someone called Kenneth Melchior...'

            'He's from the Department of Trade Regulations,' Neville said.

            'Is he?'

            'I'm fairly sure.'

            'No wonder Snape doesn't like him. He's probably got to pay all sorts of taxes and things to get potions supplies...'

            Someone groaned. 'Snape's in the group?'

            'Look,' Neville snapped with surprising acidity. 'This isn't a game. The Order of the Phoenix was central to the fight against V-V...damn...You-Know-Who last time, and it will be now as well. People get hurt; people will probably get killed. It's dangerous. If you can't learn to bury a few enmities then it's not worth becoming a part of it.'

            'All right, all right...'

            'Well said,' Harry murmured, 'Although I think you've scared the little ones even more now...'

            'It's not something they should be involved in yet, anyway.'

            'But what about Malfoy?' The dark-haired girl seemed to be grasping at straws.

            'What about him?' Harry said, in a very dangerous voice. She looked taken aback.

            'He's...he's a _Malfoy. We all know what sort of things that family got up to last time. How can you trust him? How do you know he's not a spy for the other side as well?'_

            'Draco wouldn't do that.'

            'How do you know?'

            Harry took a step forward. 'What makes you think he would spy for the other side? Is there any reason apart from an accident of birth?'

            'Dumbledore told us he was a spy. That means he has the Dark Mark—he must have been loyal to the Dark Lord sometime.'

            Harry laughed, cynically. 'A few years ago, maybe. But he has that Mark on his wrist because he wasn't strong enough to fight off all of his father's men. He hated what he'd been forced to become, and he wouldn't betray us. I know that.' Harry looked around. 'And I don't want to hear anyone whispering about it behind his back, either. Draco told me that in strict confidence, and I've probably made a huge mistake even mentioning it...' Everyone had fallen silent again, including—thank goodness—the dark-haired girl, who seemed at least a little ashamed of all her doubting. 'I need to see him. He was here a while ago—does anyone know where he went?'

            'Yeah,' Seamus said. 'He was hanging around near the Fat Lady when we were let out of class, but he turned tail when he saw us coming. Said something about helping Snape find the last Death Eater.'

            'Thanks.' Harry looked around. 'If you want to fight against Voldemort, the best thing you can do at the moment is help the Order of the Phoenix. For now at least, the Ministry isn't doing anything. But it's not something to be done lightly, on a whim. Think about it carefully.'

            He stepped back and knocked on the back of the portrait; the Fat Lady swung aside without even seeking a password. As he backtracked into the corridor, Neville leaned out of the portal.

            'Harry! What do you need to see Malfoy about? Is it Order business?'

            'Ah...' Harry flushed. 'No. Personal. Bye.'

            He scurried from the tower and out of the castle, pausing only when he reached the top of the entrance steps. Draco stood on a lower step, gazing out on the grounds. He turned at the sound of Harry's approach. His eyes lit up and his mouth curved in a small smile. 'Hello.'

            'Hello.'

            'What did Dumbledore want?'

            'Just to make sure I'm going to survive, I think. Mr Weasley came—he's taken Ron back to the Burrow.' Harry's breath hitched at the memory of Mr Weasley's haggard face. Draco's eyes softened and he moved close, taking Harry's hand in his own. 'He's not going to try for Minister of Magic any more. Says it's too dangerous.'

            'He's probably right.'

            Harry nodded. 'Dumbledore...sort of gave us his blessing, too. The Fat Lady...'

            'I know. She disappeared as soon as you and Professor Snape were gone. It's good of him to be so accepting of us.'

            Harry glanced sidelong at Draco. 'Seamus said you'd come out here to help the professors look for Harper.'

            'I did, but they've started to go through the Forbidden Forest, and Snape didn't want me to go in there for some reason.' He shrugged. 'So I'm waiting here.'

            'Wouldn't the Forest be the most obvious place to look?'

            'Yes, but Hagrid was out at the time when Kieran disappeared, and he swore he hadn't seen anyone nearby. Fang couldn't pick up any scent around the edges either, so we looked elsewhere first.' Draco leaned closer to him. 'Harry…Ron told me something in Azkaban and he asked me to pass it on to you.'

            'Yes?'

            Draco bit his lip and faced Harry with a vaguely puzzled expression. 'He said to tell you that it was all right. Do you know what he meant? He wouldn't say.'

            Harry's mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 'He said...? In Azkaban?'

            'Yes...' A faint light of worry rose in Draco's eyes. 'What did he mean?'

            Harry covered his mouth with one hand. 'That—he—' He closed his eyes. 'Why couldn't he have told me before? We wouldn't have had to fight...'

            'Harry,' Draco murmured. 'What's this about?'

            'Us. It's about Ron finally giving in and saying he'd be my friend whether I was with you or not. And the bastard waited until he was in Azkaban to decide—!'

            'Harry...'

            'I'm never going to be able to thank him!'

            'You wanted Ron's permission?'

            'I just wanted to know that I wouldn't lose him if I went ahead and told you.' Harry sighed. 'Sounds like a sick joke now, doesn't it?'

            'And he said...'

            Harry looked up, registering the note of quiet amazement in Draco's voice. 'It's all right. Yeah.'

            Draco's face broke out into the most radiant smile Harry had ever seen and he swept them together in a tight embrace. Draco feathered kisses across Harry's face, whispering, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you...'

            Harry smiled and leaned into him, sending a silent thanks skyward with Draco's and feeling his heart swell with a turbulent cohesion of bereavement and lightness. His hands rose to run through Draco's hair as he began to return the soft kisses.

            They paused, but did not relinquish their hold on one another, at a shout from across the grounds. McGonagall and Snape were pelting towards the castle from the Forbidden Forest in a wholly undignified fashion.

            McGonagall was the first to reach the steps, and as she raced up them she curtly muttered, 'Do disentangle yourselves,' before disappearing through the entrance doors.

            Snape, following behind, raised a wry brow at them that, to Harry, held a definite hint of 'Told you so.' Rather than follow Professor McGonagall into the castle, he stopped alongside Harry and Draco, obviously fighting the urge to double over in an effort to catch his breath.

            'What's going on?' Draco wanted to know.

            Snape pointed back at the Forest. 'They want to see Dumbledore.'

            Harry squinted at the Forest. Emerging from the shelter and darkness of the trees, all manner of creatures were surging across the grounds towards the castle. In the lead, beside a palomino centaur, strode the seventh-year Death Eater, Kieran Harper.


	13. Angel Things

**Rating: ****R**

**Warnings:             Slash, coarse language.**

**Disclaimer:             Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.**

**Pleas:              Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.**

**Thanks To:            Hummie, chibi nezu, Amalin, psychotic candle, Jessica (Yes, Snape is more deeply involved in things Malfoy than he'd want Draco to know—but he _is acting out of a particular kindness and responsibility. It runs very, very deep. A fully-fledged battle is indeed brewing, but not where you might think.), LB, Tacit, razor-flavoured candy, Wednesday, Snape's Girl, Valerie, Leah, Kotatsu-neko, DrWorm, Accidental Human Contact, Kasia (It is sad that J.K. Rowling doesn't have the same freedom to write whatever she wants to write in the original Harry Potter books as we do when we're merrily filching her work (perhaps we should write and suggest she take up an account on ff.net?), but I suspect that she's happy writing the stories as they are at the moment, and they still manage to be wonderfully slash-friendly, however young the audience's age is supposed to be ^.^.), Krissy, bosch, Blaze, Shukumei-of-another-world, Milly-chan, to-lazy-to-sign-in, Random Slytherin 1, josephine, chrisseee667, Flair, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, cattail prophetess (Those lines were quite entertaining to write, as well; the way in which McGonagall and Snape mirror each other is fun to play around with. I'm glad you liked Draco's kiss with Harry—I know for a fact that they did. ^_^*), Kim (The Gryffindor girl was part of an inevitable resistance to the Order of the Phoenix—not everyone in the school could have been pleased by Dumbledore's announcement and the fact that he'd been hiding the Order for so long. Centaurs are generally good, yes, but according to the Potter books they also depend a great deal on what the stars say…~.~; Gomen nasai. Sorry for the long wait.), ola (I'm not sure how much money McGonagall was willing to bet on Harry, though it was probably a fair amount. Definitely enough to upset her when she lost. The Slytherins wouldn't necessarily have denounced Draco—all the Death Eaters are gone now, so that's the major stirrers out of the way for a start—and since the chapter was from Harry's point of view and no Slytherins happened to be within that POV save Draco, there was no opportunity to see their reaction. We'll see about Harper.), durendal, kristen, Christa, MiakaMalfoy, Silmarien, DancingRain, Darklites, Demeter, Evil Windstar, bwaybaby79, Ponine, Dea, Star Muse, SoulSister, Canarde, djiinxx@yahoo.com, K. Ashley, Heather, bondagechic, MOI (*Blinks* As it turns out, there's a great deal I'm not telling you about Kieran just yet—and more that I haven't been telling myself (or that he's not been telling me). There's a fair bit of revelation happening in this chapter, however. *Wanders off muttering about minor characters gaining control of the pen...*), Star Muse, S. Maldiva (Draco has changed a lot, but there are certain things that meant it was a tiny bit easier for him to comfort Hermione. For one, Harry was there as well and he needed help. For another, Hermione, as Harry's friend, would never harm Draco the way that almost any other woman potentially could, so while the fear is still there, he can push it aside enough to do just that little bit. I'm going to do my best not to turn Hermione into a shrew or a living Moaning Myrtle, but in some places that could be a fine line to tread. *Grins* If Snape had reacted badly to seeing Draco and Harry kissing, I would probably have had to find some point in the chapter in which to knock him flat. The lucky new Minister of Magic will be revealed in the next chapter.), Myr._**

Many, many apologies to everyone who waited so long for this chapter to arrive. Schoolwork, writer's block and the school's warped computer network combined, are not really conducive to the production of fan fiction. Also, a massive thank-you to Apocalypse for beta-reading so much so quickly (In one night! Unbelievable!).****

**All Torn Down: Angel Things**

Dreams, inconsistent angel things. 

Horses bred with star-laced wings. 

But it's so hard to make them fly, fly, fly.

These wings beat the night sky 'bove the town, 

One goes up and one goes down. 

And so the chariot hits the ground, bound, bound. 

We have forgotten _don't try to make me fly, _

How it used to be _I'll stay here, I'll be fine. _

How it used to be _don't go and let me down, _

How it used to be _I'm starting to like this town. _

When wings beat the night sky 'bove the ground, 

Will I unwillingly shoot them down 

With all my petty fears and doubts, down, down? 

We have forgotten _am I in love with this? _

How it used to be _my constant broken ship. _

How it used to be _don't go, I'll shoot you down, _

How it used to be _I'm starting to like this town._

                        —_We Have Forgotten, Sixpence None the Richer_

            The motley procession began to halt as the two leaders drew up to the base of the entrance steps. Draco tightened his grip on Harry's hand, staring warily at Harper as the centaur bowed low, flicking his tail.

            'Draco-Who-Is-Not-A-Malfoy and Harry Potter, I am Firenze. Do you know me?'

            'Of course I do,' Harry said while Draco nodded. 'You helped me in my first year here. What's this all about?' He glared at Kieran. 'Why's he with you?'

            'You will be told when Dumbledore arrives, and not before,' Harper said, staring straight ahead. He turned his head slightly to gaze directly at Harry. 'I'm sorry about your friend. He must have been brave to go to Azkaban.'

            Harry glowered at Kieran's hooded Death Eater robes and the mask that he held in his hand. He said nothing, but shifted imperceptibly closer to Draco.

            Firenze sighed and raised his great, mournful eyes to the sky. 'The darkness falls.'

            'That is what we intend,' Snape retorted. He frowned when the centaur threw him an irritated look. 'Don't expect to be welcomed with open arms. Until now your lot have shown no interest in anything to do with the rest of the wizard world—certainly none in the Dark Lord, oh no—and now you emerge with a Death Eater at your side.'

            Firenze's jaw tightened, although Kieran, who seemed to be intently studying the bottom step, didn't respond to the barb. 'This one is no Death Eater, snake...'

            Snape snarled, and Draco darted him a look of trepidation. It wasn't like Snape to lose his temper so quickly. 'And I'm no reptile, Firenze. You can leave _that game with your little Divinations-obsessed adulators.'_

            Harper's head snapped upward, his eyes narrowing to slits. Snape returned the glare coolly.

            'Answer me something, boy. What crazed whim possessed you to fall in with Voldemort—'

            Firenze pushed forward suddenly, half-raising an arm in front of Kieran as though in protection. His fore-hoofs clipped against the stone of the lower steps, bringing his flashing eyes level with Snape's.

            'Do not try to make this child—' Draco noticed that Harper's hands clenched at the word-- 'a mirror for yourself. He has never _fallen in—'_

            'Leave it, Firenze.' Kieran's voice carried a great deal of force for something almost whispered. He added to the volume as he went on: 'let him think what he wants about it. Let him be a hypocrite.'

            'Harper,' Draco hissed, half in suppressed anger and half in warning. The Gryffindor's gaze rested upon him for a split second before shifting away to hold Snape's.

            Draco took an inadvertent step back under the onslaught of what Kieran managed to transmit with that one look. He felt Harry tense in response. Watching those green eyes grow sharp, and Snape glaring murder at both Harper and Firenze, he was struck with the thought that if nothing happened soon to stop it, someone was going to start a fight. 

            He squeezed Harry's hand and laid a surreptitious kiss on his cheek, and to his relief felt him relax slightly. If there was a fight, at least they wouldn't be the ones to start it.

            The entrance doors swung aside. The tension in the air fractured as Dumbledore appeared with Fawkes perched upon his shoulder in full, flaming glory. Firenze took a hasty step back and bowed to the Headmaster. Snape remained where he was, rigid as an iron rod.

            'Dumbledore—Great Phoenix…' 

            The Headmaster didn't seem at all bothered by the formality of Firenze's greeting. He paused to take in the mass of creatures gathered across the school grounds. Following his gaze, Draco realised that most of them were attempting to bow like Firenze, in many cases with a notable lack of success.

            Dumbledore's gaze rested a moment on Kieran before he said anything.

            'Speak with me, Firenze.'

            Firenze straightened from his bow. 'The darkness—' He cast a sidelong glance at Snape—'festers, and Mars grows strong.'

            'I know.' Dumbledore matched the centaur's sorrowful tone, with no hint of mockery.

            'The Heavens are clouded and even the wisest cannot see far. The sun and moon play cat and mouse while the stars must choose their places in the sky and hope that it does not fall down.'

            'Turbulent times indeed,' Dumbledore said gravely. He ignored Snape's badly stifled snort, sweeping his arm to encompass the mass spread across the grounds. 'What place has your constellation chosen?'

            'One with the sun.'

            Draco tried to catch Snape's eye, to work out what was going on between Dumbledore and Firenze, but the man seemed not to be paying much attention to the world outside of his eyes.

            Dumbledore folded his hands. 'The other members of the Order of the Phoenix will need to know of this. You must understand that not all of them will be pleased with your choice, for one reason or another.'

            'It is to be expected.'

            'I am afraid so.'

            'Perhaps they should be reminded of what the other choice was,' Harper murmured.

            Dumbledore smiled down at him. 'Child,'—again, Draco noticed Kieran's sudden, fleeting tenseness— 'It is human nature to resist an unexpected cha—'

            Fawkes, who raised his head suddenly and crooned, cut off the Headmaster. Draco glanced overhead and caught sight of a small, brown owl swooping through the air from the direction of the Hospital Wing, a slip of paper clasped in its beak. The messenger owl landed on Dumbledore's unoccupied shoulder amid an unspectacular flurry of feathers, dropped its cargo into his hand, and wheeled off into the sky again. Dumbledore scanned the message and glanced at Harry.

            'Sirius is awake.' Harry straightened up, and the Headmaster waved him off as he opened his mouth to speak. 'Go on.'

            As he stepped toward the doors, Harry looked questioningly at Draco, but he shook his head.

            'I'll find you later.' _I want to know what's going on here first._

            Harry nodded and stepped inside, the doors swinging closed behind him.

            Dumbledore turned back to Firenze. 'You will wait, then, to hear the verdict of the Order of the Phoenix?'

            'Yes. We will stay here until a decision is made.'

            Dumbledore scanned the crowd again. 'Has all your constellation joined us, Firenze?'

            The centaur stamped and looked somewhat embarrassed. 'Not all, Dumbledore.'

            The Headmaster nodded. 'I thought I couldn't see a few of your kind. Bane, for one.'

            'Forgive me.'

            'It's their choice,' Dumbledore said. 'You couldn't keep them from it. However, do be warned—certain members of the Order will not like some of the company that you _do keep.' _

He didn't bother to look directly at Harper; he didn't need to. Fawkes was doing it for him, in a piercingly focused manner.

            Firenze glared at Snape. 'We have already seen evidence of that.'

            A silvery brow arched. 'Is that so?' Snape shifted guiltily, but didn't say a word. Dumbledore shook his head. 'My apologies, Firenze. I will summon the other members of the Order of the Phoenix forthwith, and we will meet you here tonight.'

            'As you wish.'

            As Dumbledore turned back to the doorway, Fawkes flew from his shoulder to perch on Kieran's. Harper stood absolutely still. His eyes widened a little when the phoenix did nothing but nibble gently on his ear.

            Dumbledore smiled and reached out to retrieve Fawkes, who ducked away his hand and opened his beak. A trill of phoenix song broke from his throat.

            Draco couldn't remember ever having heard such exquisite music. He saw Harper relax marginally, and Dumbledore's mouth curve in a soft smile. A contented sigh whispered across the grounds; and he wished, suddenly, that he could sing like that. He turned to look at Snape, feeling an irrepressible smile on his lips.

            The elder wizard glared at Fawkes, his eyes even darker than usual. His mouth tightened, and abruptly he turned away, paying no heed to Draco.

            When Fawkes was done, he returned to Dumbledore's shoulder. The Headmaster raised a hand to stroke his plumes and smiled at Kieran. 'Perhaps there will not be as much adversity as I'd thought. Until tonight, Firenze.'

            The centaur gave a nod as Dumbledore turned away. Snape followed the headmaster back into the castle, Draco trailing after him. As soon as the doors had closed behind them, the Potions Master turned on Dumbledore.

            'You're just going to let them join with us, aren't you? As they please?'

            'I see no reason not to give them the opportunity.' Snape shook his head in something akin to disgust, and the headmaster's voice grew uncharacteristically sharp. 'Don't give me that look, Severus. You are not the only person who warrants a second chance.'

            Snape actually flinched. He seemed on the verge of retorting, but decided otherwise at the look on Dumbledore's face. He spun on his heel and walked away without a word.

            'What's wrong?' Draco said. _What the hell was that? 'Why's he so upset?'_

            Dumbledore sighed. 'I think you should ask him that yourself.'

            The door closed behind them. They turned to see Kieran leaning against it.

            'Headmaster,' he said, taking a step forward and reaching into a pocket inside his robe for something. 'Firenze was so caught up in talking metaphors with you that he forgot to mention this...' He drew out a folded cloak of shimmering, translucent material and handed it to Dumbledore. 'A week ago each of the Death Eaters in the school received one of these with a message from Lord Voldemort. The message said to use the cloaks a week from the day we got them. We were to get out of the school and rally near Hogsmeade. He made a reference to breaking Azkaban, and said something about moving us to Slytherin's stronghold.' Harper paused, looking straight up into the Headmaster's calm blue eyes. 'We weren't told what else he had planned for last night. I spoke with Firenze, and we both thought it would be better to wait until the Death Eaters were out of Hogwarts before we came to you. If I'd known what was going to happen, you would have heard about this much sooner.'

            Dumbledore stared at the Invisibility Cloak in his hands for a moment. 'Thank you—'

            'Kieran,' he said hastily. 'My name is Kieran Harper.'

            'I know. Thank you for your help.'

            He walked away, and Draco was left alone with Harper, who turned to stare at him with unnerving intensity. Draco dropped his eyes and began to edge away, thinking that he ought to find Harry.

            'Do you still want an answer to your question?'

            Kieran's query made Draco pause. 'Which question?'

            'You asked whether I was gay.' The seventh year stepped in close and grasped his wrists. Draco found himself frighteningly reluctant to pull away. 'I'm not.'

            'No?' _Doesn't feel like it when you're so close and staring at me like that…_

            'No. I'm…' His expression flickered, too swiftly for Draco to interpret. 'I'm something else—and yet—'

            Harper leaned forward. Draco tried to pull away, but the Gryffindor's hands were tight around his wrists and those hazel eyes had him locked to the spot. 

            'And yet there's you,' Kieran whispered, so close Draco could taste his breath and feel the brush of lips against his mouth. He gasped and jumped back, jerking his arms out of reach. Harper's brow rose.

            'I'm sorry.' Draco stopped, almost horrified, at much his vocie trembled. He gulped three lungfuls of air and tried to calm down. _Oh Gods… 'Kieran, I can't—Harry and I—'_

            Every emotion other than arrogant coolness drained from Harper's expression. 'I did see you kiss him, Draco.'

            'Then why did you do that?'

            Kieran shrugged. 'I wanted to. That's all.'

            'What?' Draco's confusion swallowed itself in a flare of anger. 'You—'

            'Don't do that.' Harper took a step forward, but Draco backed away before the distance between them could become too small again. He looked almost hurt. 'I won't do anything as long as you're with Potter. You've got my word on that.'

            'Why should I trust that?'

            'I'm still a Gryffindor.' He raised his chin. 'When the two of you are finished, though…'

            Draco stared at him. 'You're not a Gryffindor. You're a bloody scavenger.'

            Harper gave a bark of unamused laughter. 'Of course. I'm sure you've heard Firnze talk about the hyena in his prophecies.'

            'I don't know what he means.'

            'He means me; in the same way that he calls Snape a snake. So yes, I'm a scavenger. And once you're done with Potter—'

            Draco glared at him. 'What makes you think we'll ever—'

            'If you believe what you're saying, you're far more naïve than anyone here needs you to be.' That stung. Draco's fists clenched as Harper went on. 'When you're _ready, then, you'll know where to go. I'll just wait.'_

            'Why do you think I'd even want you?'

            A smirk, and the bitter twist of what was all too close to being the truth: 'You already do.'

            The words trickled ice down Draco's spine. He shook his head, but Harper didn't stop smiling. Draco forced himself to take a step backward, and another. He turned and began to walk quickly away.

            Harper called after him. He stopped, not turning, and hating himself for giving in that much. 'What?'

            'Would it have made any difference if I'd answered the question when you asked it?'

            Draco glared back over his shoulder. Harper stood in the centre of the corridor, all arrogant calm, but seemed a little smaller than he should have. 'No, it wouldn't.'

            Kieran nodded. 'You were already his.'

            'No. We weren't together a week ago.'

            'That isn't what I said.'

            With that, Harper stepped back, swung open one of the entrance doors, and backed out of Hogwarts. Draco stared at the woodwork. Shivering, he turned away and hurried towards the Hospital Wing.

            Draco pelted through Hogwarts, ignoring the stares he attracted from the smattering of students who were wandering outside of their common rooms. They weren't important. He desperately needed to get to Harry and forget about what Harper had said.

            He was forced to stop halfway up the last staircase on the way to the Wing: Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas had taken up position there and were acting like a kind of human barricade.

            'Malfoy,' Finnigan said, ignoring Draco's glare. 'Do you know where Professor Dumbledore is? We were going to his office—Neville gave us directions—but someone said they saw him heading back towards the front of the castle...'

            'He was there, but I think you'll be more likely to find him back at the office now.' The two Gryffindors exchanged a long-suffering look. 'Why do you need to find him?'

            'We want to join the Order of the Phoenix,' Dean said. 'We want to be able to help.'

            'Oh. Good.' Draco stared pointedly past them.

            'Ah. Sorry,' Finnigan muttered, and they parted. He continued up the stairway.

            'Where are you going?' Seamus called after him.

            'Hospital Wing. I need to see Harry,' Draco replied without thinking.

            'Why?'

            He turned. 'It's—Order business. Don't worry about it.'

            Seamus looked at Dean, nonplussed, as Draco ascended the stairs. 'Funny, Harry said it was personal.'

            Draco cursed himself inwardly and walked away without looking back.

            It took a few moments of negotiation with Madam Pomfrey to be allowed in to see Sirius. He'd been placed in a room separate from the rest of the Wing so that the students wouldn't see him, and she seemed to think that one visitor alone was almost more than he would be able to bear in his current fragile state. Draco was eventually allowed in on sufferance, because of his role in the previous night's events.

            He opened the door quietly and felt a pang catch in his chest as he stepped into the room. Sirius was sitting up in bed, pale and gaunt. He held Harry, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, close to him. Draco could see the still-drying runnels that tears had made down Harry's face.

_            Was he just putting on a brave face when he was with me?_

            Black looked up. 'Draco. What brings you here?'

            Harry stirred at the sound of Draco's name. He sat up, slipping out of his godfather's embrace, and dabbed at his red-rimmed eyes with his fingers, offering Draco a small, apologetic smile.

            'I wanted to see how you were,' he said, walking forward until he was beside Harry.

            The older man sighed. 'Fine. I'll have a mad raving fit if anyone suggests I ever go back to Azkaban, but otherwise, I'm fine. Poppy's overreacting, as usual.' He patted Harry's shoulder. 'We've been commiserating over fallen friends. It's a shame we couldn't sneak down to the Three Broomsticks to do it properly.'

            Draco smiled. 'Madam Pomfrey would catch you before you'd gone three steps.'

            'Mm.'

            Harry slipped off the bed, staring wide-eyed at Draco. His eyes slid to Sirius and quickly back again, brow rising in a silent question. Draco gave a small nod.

            Sirius caught the look and sat up a little straighter. 'What's wrong?'

            'Nothing,' Harry murmured, his tear-streaked face and clenching fingers giving the lie to the word. 'There's just something that I need to tell you.'

            'Do you want me to get out?' Draco said.

            Harry shook his head. 'No. I—Sirius. Draco and I. We're...' He paused, biting his lip. 'I don't know that you're going to like this much. We're sort of...'

            Sirius frowned. 'Just tell me, Harry. It can't be that bad.'

            'It isn't. But...' He shook his head again, frustrated at being unable to get the words out. Draco inched closer and, watching Black closely, grasped his hand. Black stared at them. Harry took a deep breath. 'We're boyfriends.'

            For a long moment there was no sound, no response from Sirius. Draco released his grip on Harry and took a small step backward; putting what he hoped was a respectful distance between himself and the godfather.

            Black slumped against the mattress. His eyes fell closed. 'Just as well I was in a hospital bed to begin with.'

            'Sirius…'

            'Why did you never tell me you were gay, Harry?'

            'I'm not!' Sirius opened one eye and stared at him. Harry hung his head. 'I mean, I don't think that way. I...God, Sirius, Draco's the only one I feel this way about! That doesn't mean...'

            'What on earth happened to Cho Chang?'

            'Nothing.'

            'I see.'

            'No, I meant—look, I didn't feel that way about her. Not really. Not the way that I feel about Draco.' His cheeks blazed. 'Please, Sirius. Don't look at me like that.'

            Black raised his head to look at Draco. There was fire in his eyes. 'Harry, wait outside a moment, please.'

            'But—'

            'Go and wait outside.' There was no room for argument in his tone. Harry swivelled abruptly and paced out. The door closed with a snap.

            'So this is what the Pansy girl found out about that she didn't like. I don't blame her.' Black patted the area of mattress Harry had just vacated. 'Sit.' Draco didn't move. He rolled his eyes. 'I'm hardly in a position to beat you at the moment, Malfoy, much as I would like to. Sit _down.'_

            Draco did so, albeit reluctantly. Sirius folded his arms. 'How long has this been going on?'

            'Only today.'

            'Only _what?' Sirius's eyes narrowed. 'You've settled yourself in very well since Ron died. Harry was telling me how you comforted him last night. Now I have to wonder just what kind of comfort it was.'_

            Draco caught his meaning and started back, horrified. 'No! No, we haven't done anything like that!'

            An impatient growl. 'Then what have you done?'

            'We've only...' Draco broke off. 'You want to know how far gone he is, don't you?'

            'Nice phrasing.'

            Draco went cold. 'It doesn't end. Professor Snape's right, it doesn't matter where you turn or whose side you're on—'

            'Snape? What does he have to do with this?'

            'He's helped me! Helped both of us, I think.'

            'Really. Helped you with what, I wonder?' Draco's jaw clenched. Sirius cocked his head to the side. 'I'm Harry's guardian, Malfoy. I'm supposed to try to do what his parents would have done in my place—and I rather doubt that James in particular would be happy about this.'

            'If James Potter was half the person the wizard world believes he was, then he would care enough about his son to get over it and realise that Harry's liking me, or liking boys, doesn't change who he is. If you're half the person you're trying to be for him, you'll do the same.'

            Sirius looked faintly surprised. 'You really care about him.'

            'What did you think?' Draco said bleakly. 'That I just wanted a piece of the Boy Who Lived?'

            Sirius nodded. 'You're fifteen years old—'

            'Sixteen. I turned sixteen in November.'

            'Sixteen, then. I know what I'd have been thinking about at your age.'

            Draco gritted his teeth. 'I'm not you.'

            'No. You're a...'

            Black stopped, but Draco could see the finally word as it faded on his lips and finished the sentence for him, a sick feeling building in his stomach. 'Malfoy.'

            'Yes. The background of the family you come from...'

            'You mean the _man I come from,' Draco snarled._

            'Your father isn't the only member of your family with the Dark Mark on his arm.'

            'When Mother realised she was wrong, she got out. She's not the one who went back to Voldemort. She's not the one who gave me mine.'

            'Didn't stop him though, did she?'

            Draco clenched his fists. He stood, paced to the far end of the room and leaned on the wall. 'You're lucky I didn't just knock you out. All this means is that next time you say something like that, I get a run up.'

            'How do you think Harry would feel about that?'

            Draco opened his mouth to snap back, then paused. He unclenched his hands and hung his head.

            'Fine,' Black said, a little more gently. 'I won't talk about that for now. There are still problems.'

            'Like what?' Draco muttered.

            The sheets swished and springs under the bed groaned as Sirius shifted. 'Like what you did to yourself at the beginning of the year. If Harry cares for you enough to go out on a limb in order to be with you—do you have any idea how it would tear him up if you were to do something like that again?'

            'It's been months.'

            'Yes, it has. So are you...are you better? Or might it happen again?'

            'I haven't tried anything since. I won't do it again...'

            'Are you sure? I won't have Harry getting involved with someone who's—'

            'I'm not sick, Black.'

            'For heavens' sake, call me Sirius.'

            'I had my reasons. It won't happen again,' Draco said, more forcefully.

            'What were those reasons?' Sirius's voice was close by, and Draco looked up. The older man stood a few feet away, one hand brushing the wall beside him to keep his balance, staring at him patiently.

            'It doesn't matter now.'

            'No? Something that pushed you to try taking your life doesn't matter?'

            'No! I've already told you, I won't—' Draco gulped. 'I won't do a thing. Don't make us leave each other. Please. I've wanted him for so long...'

            'You might notice,' Sirius said softly; 'That I was just trying to make sure that you wouldn't leave Harry.'

            Draco blinked. Then realisation dawned. For a while he couldn't speak for relief. When he did, all he managed to croak out was a soft, 'Thank you.'

            'It doesn't mean I approve,' Sirius said, gruffly. 'And the instant you do something to hurt him—or yourself—' Draco nodded quickly. Sirius took another, more hesitant step forward. 'For how long have you wanted Harry, exactly? I thought this only happened today.'

            'No. Harry...he accepted me today. I—I've wanted to be with him for...months.'

            'Months?' Suspicion surfaced in Sirius's eyes. 'As in, since he saved you?'

            'No. Before that.'

            'From when, then?'

            'Since...' Draco licked his lips. 'Since around...around a certain time during the last summer holidays.'

            'I see. Since that something happened that means you can't touch girls any more.' Sirius's eyes bored into his. 'Tell me, is that because of a spell, or a phobia?'

            Draco swallowed. 'You've already guessed, haven't you?'

            'Maybe. Why do you think I didn't fly completely off the handle when Harry shut the door?'

            'Don't tell anyone.'

            Sirius snorted. 'Give me a little credit. I'm not about to spread a secret like that about the school. When did Harry learn how you felt about him?'

            'Just before I tried to kill myself.'

            Sirius stiffened. 'You didn't…he wasn't one of the reasons you did it, was he?'

'Not really. I just…I needed someone to understand me then. I thought he could.'

'He didn't, did he?'

Draco gave a small smile. 'He couldn't have. It doesn't matter now.'

            Sirius gave him a long look. 'Don't expect too much from me. I think it will be a while before I get used to—' he waved towards Draco in a general sort of way— 'Everything.'

            'Yes. Thank you.'

            Black retreated back to the bed. 'I think you ought to go now. Harry's probably on tenterhooks outside.'

            Draco crossed the room quickly as Black sank down beneath the sheets. He paused at the door and turned back, about to say something, but Sirius held up a hand to stop him.

            'Don't. I told you, don't expect much from me.'

            Draco nodded and slipped out.

            Harry was waiting outside, leaning against the wall by the door. He looked around at Draco with wide, worried eyes in the middle of his pinched face.

            'Madam Pomfrey nearly had a fit when she heard you yelling.' The look in Harry's eyes told him she hadn't been the only one to panic. 'What did he say?'

            Draco brushed his fingers through Harry's fringe. 'Don't worry.'

            Relief flooded Harry's expression. He buried his face against Draco's chest. 'I thought he was going to punch your lights out.'

'He might have, I think, except that he didn't want Madam Pomfrey around.' He stirred his fingers through Harry's hair. 'Are you all right?'

'I was afraid he'd make us stop.' A jagged shudder shook him. 'I couldn't…don't want to lose you...'

_...The way you lost Ron, Draco finished off in his mind. He folded Harry into his arms. 'You're not going to, don't worry.'_

            Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder and sniffed. He wrapped his arms tight about his waist and a trickle of warm moisture slid from the corner of his eye into the fabric of Draco's robes. One of his hands rose quickly to wipe the tear's trail from his face.

            Draco realised that the Hospital Wing was awfully silent. He turned his head to see rows of empty beds, and Madam Pomfrey standing in the middle of the main room, staring at them both. He raised a brow and she turned away, flushing.

            Footsteps sounded outside. The door swung open. 'Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey, but Professor Dumbledore's asked us to...oh. Whoa-oh.'

            Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas stopped just inside the entrance to the Hospital Wing, staring past the matron to Draco and Harry. Harry lifted his head and moved a little from the encirclement of Draco's arms, but did nothing more to distance himself. Draco met their gazes coolly.

            Dean recovered himself first. 'Professor Dumbledore wanted us to talk to Mr Black, Madam Pomfrey. Is he all right to…?'

            'Probably not, no. Do you even know what that man's been through?'

            'Professor Dumbledore told us what happened.'

            'That's not the same. The last thing he needs at the moment is more visitors stampeding through his room.' She sighed. 'But if Dumbledore sent you, I suppose you'll have to see him.'

            'There's a meeting of the Order tonight,' Draco said. 'Dumbledore probably wants Sirius to know about it.'

            Seamus and Dean both nodded.

            'Oh,' Madam Pomfrey said, without turning. 'You'd better get on with it, then. He's in there.' She pointed back at the door by which Harry and Draco were standing.            'Thanks,'

            Dean strode forward, Seamus trailing uncertainly behind him. He paused before entering Sirius's room, and looked sidelong at Harry and Draco. 'I take it this is the personal Order business you were both talking about.'

            Draco nodded, guardedly. Dean held out his hand. 'Congratulations.'

            'Dean,' Seamus hissed, 'we're supposed to be seeing Black, not—not—' He met Harry's eyes, reddened, and dropped his head. 'I mean. Sorry, Harry, but I just never thought you'd be the sort of person to...' He glanced at Draco and looked hurriedly away. 'You know. Especially with—' Another bashful glance— 'Ah. Well. Anyway...'

            Harry shook Dean's hand without looking at Seamus, who was staring at Draco anyway. 'Thank you,' he said, quietly.

            Draco watched, feeling vaguely disoriented. He was sure this wasn't how things were supposed to go. 

            Dean threw him a lopsided look. 'I guess you were expecting a different reaction.'

            Draco shook himself. 'Yes. I'm sorry. I'm not used to…' 

            'It's all right.' Dean glanced back at Madam Pomfrey, who was sorting through a medicine cabinet with her back to them. 'Is he really as badly off as she thinks?'

            'He doesn't look well,' Harry said. 'But he acts as if there's nothing wrong.'

            'Mm,' Draco murmured. 'He may not be in a very good mood, though.'

            'No?'

            'He just found out something he didn't like. Two guesses.'

            Seamus frowned; Dean's eyes went wide. 'Ah. You told him?' Harry nodded. 'That was pretty brave. Most people would try to hide something like that for a while.'

            'It wouldn't be fair for him not to know.'

            'Still brave.'

            Seamus sighed impatiently and reached past Dean and swung the door open. Dean nodded and smiled at Harry and Draco before following his friend inside.

            Pomfrey stood at the click of the door closing and turned her head, casting a purse-lipped look at the brown wood. 

            'It's all right, Madam Pomfrey,' Harry said. 'They know everything; they won't hurt him.'

            'I know. I'll see you two at the meeting tonight.' She said it without actually looking at either of them; shifting about the room and fiddling with bed sheets that didn't need to be fiddled with. Harry looked hurt.

            'Bye.'

            Pomfrey didn't look up as the Hospital Wing door swung shut behind them.

            They walked through the corridors together for a while, in silence. Draco watched Harry carefully; his chin was down and his brows knotted into a fierce frown.

            'What's wrong?'

            'Doesn't matter.'

            'Harry...' Draco looked about to make sure that there was no one nearby to see them. He took Harry's hand and pulled him into a narrow by-passage.

            'What are you doing?'

            'What were you thinking about? You look worried.'

            Harry bit his lip. 'Do you think Dean's right?'

            'About what?'

            'Do you—do you think we ought to hide...us?' Harry's voice grew softer and more wretched with every word. Draco stepped towards him.

            'Do you want to?'

            'I don't know. No! But yes.' Harry waved back the way they had come. 'Back there, we...four people found out and I saw four different reactions and only _one person treated us as still the same people. As…okay; as if we were normal. If that's the way people are going to take it...'_

            'It is,' Draco said before he could stop himself.

            Harry kicked at the wall. 'Why can't they just understand?'

            'They'll get past it eventually.'

            'What if they don't? I don't know what Madam Pomfrey thinks we're getting up to, or Professor McGonagall, and—oh, God—Ron...' Harry looked utterly torn. 'He's...he _was, he was my best friend, but the way he treated you—especially when he found out I liked you too—' Harry drew in a shaking breath and clapped a hand over his mouth as though to catch the sob that Draco could see was coming. 'I don't want to see anything like that again, Draco, I really...he was my __best friend, and he still did it, and I never—never got to forgive him...'_

            Tears began to form in Harry's eyes. Draco took him into his arms, and he laid his head against Draco's shoulder, trying to smother them in the black of his robes.

            As he stroked Harry's hair and kissed his head, Draco felt a knot of sheer terror twist inside his stomach. He swallowed, hard. The knot only tightened.

            'Harry...would it be easier if—if we just ended it now?'

            'No!' Draco jumped; Harry's wail echoed up and down the corridor. Harry lost the fight with himself, and the tears broke. 'I won't—_can't—do that, I don't want to, but—' He quivered. 'But, God, I'm so scared of what people will think, what they'll __do. And I wish Ron was here so he could look at us both and say, really, it's all right, and smile and be __alive again...'_

            Draco held Harry closer as crying assaulted his words and drowned them. He felt tears prick his own eyes and held them back grimly. _The last thing Harry needs is for me to be bawling like a baby too..._

            'I don't want to make it a secret,' he said, and was proud of the way his voice almost didn't crack. 'I hate the idea of...of not being able to hold you and kiss you just because other people can see. Now I'm allowed, I mean. But if people knowing is going to hurt you, then yes. We'll keep it quiet.'

            Harry continued to cry for several minutes. Draco wished he knew how to make him stop.

            'Sorry,' he said, hiccoughing, when he recovered his voice. 'I'm sorry, Draco...'

            'What for?' Harry tried to turn away; Draco caught him about the waist and pressed their foreheads together. 'What for, dear?'

            Harry shivered and wiped his eyes. 'I think I like you calling me that.'

            'Harry…'

            'I'm sorry for falling apart on you. And I don't want to hide it either. I'm just…I don't know. I'm not thinking straight, and after seeing…I'm…so _scared. I don't remember ever feeling like this before.'_

            Draco moulded his hands around Harry's face, his thumbs tracing circles over his cheeks. 'We'll just play it by ear, shall we?'

            'Okay.' Harry raised his hands to close them around Draco's. 'Okay. I'm sorry.'

            'There's nothing to be sorry for.'

            'Let's just...just be careful.'

            'Yes.' Draco kissed him. 'It won't all be like that, anyway.'

            'I know. I'm being stupid.'

            'No. I wish you were,' Draco sighed. 'Let's go outside and wait for everyone to arrive.'

            They walked close together through the castle, hands clasped and hidden between the folds of their robes. No one they passed questioned them. Every now and then, one squeezed the other's hand.

            The sun was setting over the Forbidden Forest when they passed through the entrance doors, casting fractured rays through the trees and lending it as eerie an aura as if it were beneath a full moon. The forest creatures had settled in haphazard groups across the grounds. Draco made out Hagrid's huge form, semi-eclipsed behind a pair of unicorns, but to his relief he saw no sign of either Firenze or Harper.

            Harry cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted out to Hagrid. The half-giant straightened up and waved, saying something over his shoulder to the unicorns as he strode over to them.

            'Hi, Harry!' Hagrid paused on the lower steps, squinting up at them. 'Here, are yeh all righ'? Look as though yeh've been cryin' something terrible.' Harry had nothing to say to that. Hagrid grimaced sympathetically and stamped up the rest of the steps. 'Been hearing 'bout Ron all day. 'S a horrible thing, it really is. Yeh must feel terrible; I know I do. Yeh know, Fang was howlin' all through last night. To think of all them little Death Eaters scurryin' away like that, under me nose...' He shook his head, blinking rapidly. 'Feel such a useless idiot.'

            Draco felt an unaccustomed stir of sympathy for the half-giant. 'They all had Invisibility Cloaks. You weren't to know.'

            Hagrid nodded, still blinking. He sniffed. Some of the smaller creatures started nervously at the sound. 'Still, yeh'll be all righ', eh, Harry?' He clapped a hand against Harry's back, knocking the breath out of him. Draco's hand flashed out to keep him steady. 'Bet he's up somewhere better now, grinning down tryin' to tell us all to buck up.' Hagrid looked at Draco. 'Heard about what yeh did in there, too. Snape's pretty proud.'

            In spite of himself, Draco gave a tiny smile. He turned away to scan the grounds again. 'Do you know where Firenze and Harper are?'

            'They went back into the Forest a while ago.' Hagrid caught the look on Harry's face and shook his head. 'Trust 'em, Harry—or at least, trust Firenze. He's a good soul, an' I don't think that Harper boy'd cross him come hell or high water.'

            Harry was about to reply when the doors opened behind them and Seamus, Dean and Snuffles filed out. The black dog wagged its tail at Harry and immediately transformed into Sirius. He took one look at Harry and Draco and drew them aside while Seamus and Dean took the opportunity to bombard Hagrid with the news of their joining the Order.

            'Sorry I threw a fit.' Sirius grimaced at Harry, speaking so low that even Draco could barely catch the words. 'Madam Pomfrey told me you were upset.'

            'It's okay.'

            'No, it's not. Ordering you out of the room is the last thing I should have done.' Sirius sighed. 'You have to understand...this is something that's very awkward for me. I was never taught to tolerate it, and—God, Harry, I _want to understand. I really do...'_

            'So do I,' Harry muttered. He looked his godfather full in the eye. What makes it so awkward for you? How is this so different to me liking Cho or another girl?'

            'Draco _isn't another girl.'_

            'No,' Draco chipped in. 'But at least I care for Harry as much as he cares for me.'

            'And it's something...deeper than what I've felt for any girl, too.'

            Sirius looked edgy at Harry's words. Draco gritted his teeth. 'The point is that there's no need for you to see us as any different from any other normal couple.'

            Another grimace. 'You two don't make a normal couple however you look at it. My point is that it shakes certain unshakable notions I've always had about things that go together. Sun and moon. Day and night. Man and woman.'

            Harry sighed. 'It doesn't have to be like that, Sirius, and you know it. You've _seen it--you were in Professor Snape's year; you'd know about—'_

            'His two little friends?' Sirius gave a low, bitter laugh. 'Yes. He's told you that story, has he? Well, how lovely of him. The whole lot? How he wound up—'

            'Executing them,' Draco said, quietly. 'Yes, he has.'

            'Can't have been such close friends as all that, can they?'

            Draco's jaw tightened. 'You ask him about it. Take a look at his face when he's talking about them. Then you come back and tell me they didn't mean anything to him.' He looked up. 'I've been warned about what Voldemort might do if he knew I was gay. I'm glad I'm not in danger of that any more. But it's not that much better on this side, really, from what I've seen. I've been sneered at, pushed away, beaten—I've _hated myself for feeling the way I do, but I can't help it. Okay? And nor can Harry. I don't understand. You say you'll let us be, you say you want to understand, and then you get out here and try to make us think the way that you do...'_

            Black's eyes grew dark as he spoke, but Draco held his gaze. _I'm not apologizing, he thought. __No way. Not now, not to him..._

            Draco felt Harry's fingers twine between his own. Harry lifted his hand, kissed it softly.

            'Sirius, is this really so bad?'

            'O'course it ain't, Harry.' All three of them jumped and glanced up at Hagrid, sitting on the highest step, gazing down at them. Dean and a red-faced Seamus sat beside him.

            'Oh, God,' Sirius groaned. 'Don't you get involved too!'

            'I'm not,' the groundskeeper said, 'much. But I don' think yer bein' fair to either of 'em. That's all. In fact,' he cast a pointed glance at Seamus, who reddened further, 'I reckon it's kind of sweet.'

            Draco flushed. Harry's face erupted into a sudden, fleeting smile. 'Thanks Hagrid.'

            Black sighed, rubbing his face. 'For Heaven's sake, Harry...'

            'Look,' Hagrid rumbled, overriding whatever Sirius was going to say. He pointed towards the gateway that led to Hogsmeade; several figures were making their way into the school grounds. 'Company's here.'

            The creatures seemed to have noticed the intruders as well; calling out to one another, they began to rise. There was an instant of movement behind the trees edging the Forbidden Forest, and Firenze emerged with Kieran in tow. The other animals moved aside to let the pair pass as they made their way up to the castle entrance.

            The doors opened and Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape stepped out, ahead of the rest of the Hogwarts staff. Dumbledore, wearing robes of midnight blue embroidered with stars and moons, looked as regal as the phoenix still perched upon his shoulder; McGonagall, her eyes flicking across the gathering crowd, seemed tense and weary. Snape looked as if he'd been brewing a storm all day in his cauldron and had just drunk it. 

            Everyone on the steps scrambled to their feet, backing away to give the teachers space. Draco cast his gaze back over the grounds and saw that the other members of the Order were much closer now, and the creatures of the Forbidden Forest were gathering behind Firenze. 

            The doors swung aside again. Dumbledore turned to let Hermione, Neville, Ginny and the twins pass by.            

            Harry drew in a breath. 'I haven't seen them at all today,' he whispered. 'I'm so stupid! I should have been around to help...'

            'I had hoped you would join us,' Dumbledore said to the Weasleys. 'Your father will be here shortly.'

            The Weasleys weaved through the crowd to Draco and Harry, each looking grimmer than Draco could remember having seen before. Ginny's red eyes betrayed her, but that was all; her eyes looked like chips of stone until she reached Harry. She gave a little whimper and flung her arms about him. Harry returned the embrace with equal vigour.

            Fred and George each shook Draco's hand in turn, murmuring, 'Thanks for trying.'

            Then they drew away and moved on to find Mr Weasley, with Hermione and Neville following behind them. Draco stared straight in front of him, listening to the man's hoarse cry as he spotted them and their voices, breaking under the strain of trying not to cry, and bit back the guilt that rose like bile in his throat.

_            Trying wasn't enough. I should have been able to stop__ him._

            Sirius kept close by the both of them for some reason, making Draco uneasy. He looked about for Snape and spotted him, towards the back of the human crowd, by Professor McGonagall. He watched as Snape bent down and whispered something in the older woman's ear, and then saw her eyes go wide as he slipped his arm smoothly about her waist. Snape smirked.

            'Now what's that about...?'

            Harry looked up and turned around, following his gaze. He rolled his eyes. 'A private war, apparently.'

            'Friends,' Dumbledore's voice boomed suddenly, commanding the attention of everyone present, human and animal alike. 'Terrible, terrible things have happened since we last met. Voldemort has brought us to a crossroad. Tonight we must decide how best to defend ourselves and those we love from him.

            'Lord Voldemort is gathering his forces. Last night he evacuated every student Death Eater from Hogwarts to join with him. They used Invisibility Cloaks to evade our staff patrols. We believe that he is preparing to draw us into open battle.'

            A murmur rose, and Draco caught sight of Melchior, sneer upon his face, glancing back towards Snape and opening his mouth to say something. Dumbledore raised his hand for silence.

            'Voldemort had been warned against our spies, and left them bereft of any information that could have been used to stop him. He sent them into Azkaban on a mission that was surely meant to kill them, while the other Death Eaters made their escape. I sought to protect them by sending two others as well.' He shut his eyes suddenly, as if against a sharp pain. 'It did not work. Ronald Weasley went to Azkaban to aid Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, and died there by the hand of the Death Eater Lestrange, who escaped from his cell. He is the first casualty of the war.'

            Dumbledore's words hung in the air amid a wall of shocked and aggrieved silence. The moment drew itself out and ended with the stamp of a hoof.   
            All eyes swung to Firenze. He stamped again, raised his head, and began to sing in a deep, melancholy voice. 

            'Oria ket demira qo berin i ge—' Harper began to sing alongside him. All around, the forest animals stirred. '—Ge boro mana, berin-do boro kii...suthri rai. Suthri rai.'

            Sirius gasped. Harry tipped his head back to look at him. 'What are they singing?'

            'I think it's a centaur's funeral song.' The awe in his voice was echoed in the faces of many of the other members of the Order. 'I've heard about them, but I've never seen one sung before. The words...I've heard about this, I'm sure of it...'

            '—Vira ket oriaria qo ge, Zyr boro det—'

            'A light has winked out in the sky of the world,' Sirius murmured. 'Mother...yes, Mother take his body, sisters take his soul, and...sleep?...rest him well. Rest him well. His life has shimmered in the world. Father, take his heart, brothers take his mind, and rest him well. Rest him well. That's all I know.'

            'That's beautiful,' Draco murmured.

            'It's a very old chant. The reasons for it are all buried in legends and so forth by now, but still...I think that it's about the highest honour they could offer Ron.'

            Harry stared at Firenze and Harper as they sang the final note. 'That's...that's really good of them,' he said thickly. 'It's what Ron deserves.'

            The centaur bowed low and, member by member, the Order's attention reverted to the Headmaster. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with something deeper than his customary merriment. 'Thank you, Firenze. We are most humbly grateful.'

            Then he addressed the Order as a whole. 'As a result of last night's events, the school is no longer in immediate danger. Yet the Dark Lord must have a reason for pulling his followers out of Hogwarts. Without knowing what he plans, we must do what we can to keep him at bay.

            'Arthur has also put an end to his campaign to become the new Minister for Magic. I know that several of you have already volunteered to take his place, and I wish you all luck.'

            'We'll give You-Know-Who's cronies something to think about,' Snape's burly friend rumbled. He flashed his nasty grin and several of the people around him sniggered.

            'I should hope so,' Dumbledore said, beard twitching. 'I would not wish to see Lucius Malfoy in that position for all the world.'

            'So, Dumbledore,' Melchior called out suddenly, jabbing a thumb at Harper; 'If all the Death Eaters are out of Hogwarts, what's this boy doing in their garb?'

            It could have been Draco's imagination, but the night's temperature seemed to drop considerably.

            'That is a fair question, Kenneth,' Dumbledore said, managing not to sound ruffled. 'It turns out that ours were not the only spies parading as Death Eaters. Kieran, could you come here, please?'

            Harper hastened up the steps to the Headmaster. He turned to face the watching crowd with silent arrogance. Watching him, Draco wondered how much of a mask that expression really was.

            'Just as Draco and Severus have watched Voldemort and gathered information to help the Order of the Phoenix, so Kieran Harper has watched and gathered information for the creatures within the Forbidden Forest. They have come forward today to offer themselves as allies.'

            'Can he be trusted?' Melchior sounded doubtful, and Draco saw several people who looked as though they agreed with him.

            Snape hissed. 'Yes. Of _course he can.' Draco looked back at the Potions Master. He'd stepped away from Professor McGonagall, and was glaring at Dumbledore. 'Go ahead. Show them, Fawkes.'_

            Fawkes seemed to hear his name being spoken, and looked down his beak at Snape. He hopped from Dumbledore's shoulder onto Harper's, spread his wings, and released a peal of song.

            As the notes wavered in the night air, everyone bar Snape relaxed a little. Fawkes fluffed himself up and returned to Dumbledore.

            'All right,' Melchior said. 'Do you have any information that we don't, boy?'

            'Only that Voldemort is moving the Death Eaters to somewhere he calls his stronghold, and that he desperately wants to break Azkaban.'

            'Do you have any idea of when he intends to do the breaking?'

            'I don't.'

            'Useful,' Melchior sniffed as Harper returned to Firenze's side. 'Still, I suppose that we could do with a few of these brutes when it comes down to it.'

            The furious reaction was instantaneous. It was only Firenze's sharp commands that kept certain of the creatures from setting upon Melchior. Hagrid whirled about and shouted something at him that didn't need repeating, particularly since most people there would never forget the mental image. Dumbledore shouted for quiet, but it was only after several tense moments that things calmed down. Dumbledore gazed about, his eyes flinty.

            The quiet was broken by a brittle, mirthless laugh. Draco recognised the voice, and shut his eyes. _Oh god, what's he doing? Dumbledore's not in a mood to put up with this..._

            He turned with the rest of the Order to stare at Professor Snape.

            'Rather put your foot in it then, didn't you, Melchior?' he said. 'And you're perfectly wrong, of course. If you'd been paying attention you'd see that a centaur is leading your 'brutes'. A diviner. You know what that means, don't you?' Snape's gaze locked with Dumbledore's. 'It means that the least they will expect is for us to accept them as allies. And the most? Oh, the sky's the limit, isn't it? Always is for a centaur. But that's all right. We're prepared to pay that, aren't we, for the sake of a handful more merry friends?'

            'Severus,' Dumbledore said, in a voice that bore no small warning.

            'No, please go on. You are right, as always. We must accept those willing to side with us. You are right, and I am wrong, as it has always been and always shall be forever and ever, amen. A bird deigns to open its beak and sing a note or two, and _voila! Our latest batch of allies has arrived. Amazing.' _

            Snape shook his head and made his way through the crowd, past Dumbledore, to the castle doors. The Headmaster put a hand on his shoulder as he pushed them open—whether in some kind of comfort or to pull him back, Draco couldn't be sure.

            Professor Snape looked him in the eye. 'Don't. You don't want me here tonight and you know it.'

            He pushed the doors aside and they swung closed with a dull thud behind him. The silence returned, heavy and jagged, in his wake. Dumbledore sighed and turned back to face the others.

            'The inhabitants of the Forbidden Forest offer an alliance. I'm sure you are all aware of the aid they are capable of providing, and let us not forget how things ended during the last confrontation with Voldemort without them. However, it must ultimately be your decision to accept or reject their proposal. Ayes raise your hands.'

            There was little hesitation; a forest of hands sprang up. Melchior looked sour, but his hand rose as well. Dumbledore nodded in obvious approval.

            'Firenze, welcome into the Order of the Phoenix.'

            The centaur, and the bulk of the creatures at his back, bowed. 'You will never have cause to regret this.'

            'I don't doubt it.' Dumbledore smiled and raised his voice once more. 'Finally, after last night's events I was obliged to reveal the existence of the Order of the Phoenix to the students.'

            The crowd's murmur sounded like a fuse burning down. It was obvious that most of the humans there who weren't members of the Hogwarts staff had very definite ideas of what the Hogwarts students should and shouldn't know. The Headmaster sighed.

            'It caused quite a commotion, it is true, and I don't doubt that some parents will be receiving very interesting letters over the next few days. But you must remember that the children woke this morning with one of their classmates dead and a substantial number missing. Those pupils who remain are good children, and they deserved to be told the truth, particularly given the seriousness of the situation. Moreover, several of Ron Weasley's siblings are also at Hogwarts—' Dumbledore nodded at Fred, George and Ginny. '—And I could not ask them to grieve in silence. I gather that there has been a great deal of common room discussion about the Order, and along with the Weasleys, two fifth years have already volunteered to become a part of it. They are Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas.'

            The Headmaster indicated the pair. Draco noted the heavy scrutiny under which the rest of the Order regarded them.

            'Dumbledore, is it wise to get the students involved?' a witch asked. She spared a glance for the Weasleys, Harry and Draco before continuing. 'I know that some have been caught up in this since the beginning, and there's nothing to be done about that, but...'

            'If we're old enough to be Death Eaters, we must be old enough to fight against them,' Draco said, frowning at the restless stir winding through the crowd.

            Melchior rolled his eyes. 'You don't understand, boy.'

            'I think I do.'

            'This isn't a game. It's dangerous, and it's probably going to become deadly before it's over. _You know that—but do they?' he pointed at Seamus and Dean. Draco noted their clenched fists and dark eyes. 'Will all of Hogwarts?'_

            'How stupid do you think we are?' Seamus scowled. 'We know what's going on, all right? Ron's dead—' Harry flinched. Draco instinctively wrapped an arm around him. '—And we _know that Voldemort's back—we've known for longer than most of adult wizards have! Don't you dare try to tell us we can't do something about it, don't tell us we're not involved. Don't you dare!'_

            'That will do, Seamus. You've made your point,' Dumbledore said softly. Finnigan subsided, still glaring at Melchior. 'I have made a point of telling the students what they need to know about Voldemort's activities, when they need to know it. I'm not going to stop that now. The struggle is theirs more than anyone else's, after all.' He cast his gaze about the crowd, seeking out the more discontented faces. 'Let's not forget that, however things turn out, it's the children who are going to have to live through it. We can't deny them the right to help.'

            He waited a moment. No one made a sound. 'Very well, then. Is there anything else to be mentioned?'

            'Durmstrang,' Professor Figg said, tersely. 'Do we know what's happening over there?'

            'I received an owl some time ago from Minister Oblanksovic informing me that our offer of help had been duly noted, but the Bulgarian Ministry wasn't yet prepared to divulge the school's whereabouts.'

            'Idiots! What do they think they're doing?'

            'I believe they are trying to protect the students from Voldemort's influence by remaining in hiding.'

            Sirius snorted. 'In the only major school that actually teaches the Dark Arts? There's a farce for you.' 

            There was a rustle of agreement that rose in volume as debates broke out over the real reason for Oblanksovic's secrecy.

            'This is ridiculous,' Figg muttered. 'They can't protect the children if they can't teach them.'

            Dumbledore clapped his hands for quiet. 'Worrisome though the Durmstrang situation is, there is nothing we can do about it at present. As long as Mr Oblanksovic refuses to disclose the school's whereabouts we are, I'm afraid, quite useless. 

            'Now, it is getting late and I know that many of you have far to travel from here. Thank you all for arriving so quickly. I bid you good night and a safe journey home.'

            The gathering dispersed three ways; two streams of Order members radiating out from the castle steps back to Hogsmeade or to the Forbidden Forest. Those remaining trickled back into the castle.

            Sirius led Harry inside and back towards Gryffindor Tower. Draco took the hint and trailed behind them, promising himself only to follow as far as his path coincided with theirs.

            Harry and Sirius spoke quietly to each other as they walked. They smiled; Harry laughed once or twice. Draco wished he knew what they were talking about. 

            Harry's eyes kept flicking back to him. He stopped at the first staircase and, without a word of warning to his godfather, raced back, almost barrelling into Draco when he stopped.

            'Draco, I...you're not still sleeping just...just anywhere, are you?'

            The concern on his face surprised Draco. He'd forgotten that Harry didn't know about his lair. He smiled. 'No, I'm not, dear. I found somewhere.'

            'Oh. Good. Because, you know, the Fat Lady doesn't seem to mind you and I thought if you wanted a bed, you could come up to the dormitories and…' Harry blushed. 'Just to sleep. You know. If you wanted to.'

            Draco's eyes softened, and he stroked Harry's cheek. Under his fingertips, the skin settled back from a warm flush into its usual pale cream. 'Thank you, Harry. It's...it's nice for you to have thought of that. I don't think Sirius would really approve, though. Not at the moment.'

            'Sirius hasn't seen you trying to sleep in the corner of the Transfigurations classroom. Are you sure?'

            'Yes. It's all right. I've got a proper room now. It's even got a bed.'

            Harry dimpled. 'Good.'

            'Good night, then.'

            Harry leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. 'Night, Draco.'

            He smiled again, and went back to the stairs. Draco watched him go, unconsciously raising a hand to his cheek, where the lingering warmth of Harry's lips made his skin tingle. It had been years since he'd been kissed good night.

            He saw Sirius staring at him, and flushed. There was little mistrust or disgust in the man's expression any more, though, just a kind of helpless bewilderment. He turned abruptly and followed Harry.

            Draco hugged himself and turned away toward the Chimaera Hall, fully prepared to spend the rest of the night folded in dreams of Harry.

~~~*~~~

            … …

            … … A full moon soared like a coin flicked into the night sky, obscured by clouds and bare branches scratching up from the ground around Draco in a dead forest. He was running. Something howled behind him, and suddenly he knew why. He tried to run faster.

            Draco's breath churned from his lungs and exploded from his mouth in gusts of silvery mist, twisting before his eyes. He watched it shift into the image of Harry's face, smiling and whispering to him for a moment before dancing out of the reach of Draco's helplessly straining fingers and melting away into the night air.

            Another howl came, closer to him. Draco heard panting, the scrape of claws on the ground and an animal grunt. He tripped over a root, righted himself. Didn't dare stop. Didn't dare look back.

            The trees thickened in front of him, all thorns and tangled, clinging wood. He struggled on, ignoring the twigs catching on his skin and in his clothes; drawing blood, pulling the threads loose. They weren't as bad as the thing behind him. He couldn't hear it any more, but that didn't mean a thing. They could be soft as cat's feet, he knew. Father had said, and Father was always right.

            There was a tree in front of him with broad, thick roots spilling over a small hole in the ground. It looked like a cage, but he could hide there; he'd be safe if he was small enough to crawl under, and he knew he was.

            He dropped to his knees by the hole; tried to find a way in between the roots. A small, skeletal branch roughly caressed his head like a dead man's hand.

            He flinched as another howl rang out just behind his back, degenerating into a mad laugh, ripping through the trees. He scrabbled frantically at the roots, tearing his fingernails apart trying to force them aside so he could hide. 

            Draco froze as he felt fingers stroking through his hair, scratching his scalp. He raised his eyes. Where the branch had been, he saw a scabbed hand.

            The fingers latched onto his hair suddenly, and pulled him back. Draco cried out, only earning a careless slap that shot fire across his face. The laughter that followed echoed in his ears as the forest melted away into darkness before his eyes.

            'I'm going to have fun with you, silver man. I'll make your scalp red as blood…'

            … …

            … … Draco hit the floor. He stayed there, trembling, until he realised his fingers were twisting slowly in the fabric of his blanket. He dropped the sheet and scrambled to his cabinet, wrenching the doors open. He fumbled with one hand for his wand on the top of the cabinet, muttered, '_Lumos', and scrabbled among the potions bottles there until he found one that was marked, 'Sleeping'._

            Draco stared at the label. Sleeping. It said nothing about dreamless sleep. He put it back in the cabinet and swung the doors closed, leaned his head on the wood and closed his eyes.

_            …A howl and a laugh; scabbed fingers raking through his hair…_

            Draco gasped and opened his eyes. He gave a little moan.

            'Not again, please, I stopped this years ago…'

            He got to his feet, wrapped himself in his robes without bothering to change out of his pyjamas. He hurried out of the room and down the tunnel.

_            I just need a walk, that's all. If I tire myself out, I won't be able to dream…_

            He wandered up stairs and down, not really aware that he was heading towards Gryffindor Tower until he climbed the last set of stairs and saw the Fat Lady's portrait at the end of the corridor in front of him.

            'Do you want to come inside?' she said, watching him as he walked up to her. 'My word, you look a bit pale, dear…'

            'That's just me.' He stared at her, thinking of Harry's offer. The thought of being able to curl up and fall asleep beside him warmed something deep inside Draco. He glanced down and kicked at the floor.

_            That's just being childish. Crawling into bed with him because I had a nightmare…I shouldn't worry Harry with something so stupid._

            'No. It's all right.'

            Draco stepped back and headed away, downward and deeper into Hogwarts. There was someone he might be able to talk to, if he was still awake. At the very least, he could get a potion for dreamless sleep.

            A sliver of light still shone beneath Snape's office door when Draco reached it. He gave the wood a hesitant tap.

            'Who is it?' Snape's tone was oddly guarded. Draco frowned.

            'Just me, sir.'

            There was the sound of paper rustling and a drawer being hastily closed. 'Come in.'

            Draco did so, pausing in the doorway in surprise. Dark rings shadowed the Potions Master's eyes; the corners of his mouth drooped, far more than a Longbottom effort in Potions class had ever caused them to. There was an entrenched melancholy about him that Draco was sure he'd never seen before.

            Then, suddenly, it was gone, and Snape stood up, pushing his tattered chair back from his desk. 'Why are you awake so late, Draco?'

            He shrugged, feeling foolish. 'Couldn't sleep.'

            'Well, that makes two of us.'

            Draco looked up. 'What's wrong, Professor?'

            Snape's mouth pressed into a thin line. 'Ron Weasley—'

            '—Isn't why you're so upset. This is something to do with Fawkes and the centaurs.'

            The Potions Master pinched the bridge of his nose. 'It's none of your concern.'

            'No?'

            'No.' The harshness of Snape's voice set Draco on edge. His glare only made it worse. 'Is badgering me the only reason you came here?'

            'No. But—'

            'If you really want to know, I suggest you go and speak to Dumbledore. What do you want?'

            'A potion that will let me sleep without dreaming,' he muttered.

            Snape nodded. Draco watched him turn away to search among the potions in his cupboards. 

            'I did ask Dumbledore,' he said, quietly. 'He said I ought to talk to you.'

            Snape stilled. Draco could see the tenseness in the line of his shoulders. 'He was wrong.'

            He continued to search. Draco bit his lip. He took a step forward as Snape's fingers closed around the neck of a bottle. 'Professor—'

            The man whirled about, his dark eyes all but giving off sparks. 'Don't you know when to leave things be, boy?'

            Draco was taken aback by his ferocity. 'I just—'

            'Just what?' Snape advanced; Draco backed away, feeling trapped by the closeness of the office walls around him. 'You just want to know, do you? Just want to make it better? You're too kind! You've got no idea—' He broke off. 'Fine. _Fine. Have it your way. You don't know why I was sent to Azkaban when I returned to Dumbledore, do you?'_

            'T-to prove your loyalty—'

            'But what was Fawkes used for then?' Draco gaped, and Snape nodded slowly. 'I went back to Dumbledore, he showed me to his beloved phoenix, and nothing happened. Not one bloody squeak of a note, not a tear, nothing.' He laughed. 'He had quite a song to sing for young Harper today, though. I suppose I must still have stunk of David and Morgan's blood. Too impure for a phoenix's taste, clearly.

            'Once I was released from Azkaban, I was sent into the Forbidden Forest—Dumbledore had an idea that the inhabitants should help fight, and since the centaurs are the leaders among them, I was supposed to negotiate with them.' His fist clenched. 'I have never dealt with such _impossible creatures in all my life. Never mind that they lived on Hogwarts territory and were therefore under Dumbledore's protection. They refused to lift a finger unless the stars decreed it—or at least, unless the stars decreed that it would be detrimental for them not to.'_

            'But then why would they have come out now?'

            Snape laughed. 'For the very same reasons, Draco. They won't tell, of course; they'll make all sorts of noble allusions--like that funeral song tonight; very touching.'

            Draco swallowed, not sure whether to be horrified or angry. 'Don't you think they might have just changed their minds...that they might just want to help this time?'

            'I'd rather that they had some ulterior motive. If the centaurs think that we'll actually need their help, things will get dire indeed.' Snape ran a hand through his hair. 'Failing at my very first task in the Order did nothing to endear me, especially to the likes of Melchior. There was a lot of whispering that it was deliberate. So I was kindly told that I could help most by spying. Going back to the people I hated most in the world, watching them like a truly twisted voyeur...' Snape made a noise that could as easily have been a sob as a laugh. 'And now I've lost even that. Dumbledore won't even listen to me when I try to tell him that the centaurs aren't just playing nice. For God's sake, they took a Death Eater as a spy to eye things out before coming to him!'

            Abruptly, he stepped forward and looked Draco straight in the eye. 'Go ahead then, Draco. Make it better; God knows I wish it were. Otherwise,' he pressed the potion bottle into Draco's hand. 'Leave. Now.'

            Draco's fingers curled around the bottle's neck. He knew there was nothing he could do to lift the shadows out of his teacher's eyes; they went far too deep. Trembling, he left the room.

            Draco only walked a few paces before trembling gave way to wretched, silent sobs. He managed a few more feet before tears gathered on his lashes, clouding his vision, and he gave up. Draco sank down to his knees, curling against the wall and cursing himself. He jammed a fist into his mouth to keep from making any noise.

            He wasn't sure how long it was before the useless hand dropped from his mouth, sore and punctured, or how loudly his crying echoed down the hall, before he heard the nearby swing of a door, and feet approaching. He curled up further, trying to hide his face behind his hands, desperate not to be seen like this.

            He heard a whispered, 'Oh god,' nearby, and whimpered. Soft fingers pulled his hands from his face, stroked his cheeks, and helped him to his feet. He heard Snape mutter, 'I'm such a selfish bastard.'

            'It's not you,' Draco sobbed, leaning against Snape as he was led back into the office. 'Not your fault...'

            'Of course not,' Snape said grimly. 'Me shouting at you and acting as if you were to blame for every chip on my shoulder not ten minutes ago couldn't have anything to do with this.'

            The door closed behind them and Snape leaned back, not quite taking Draco into his arms. 'Your turn. Tell me what's wrong.'

            Draco shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 'Its...it's all so _stupid, and I shouldn't be...'_

            'Draco,' Snape said, his voice gentling suddenly, 'you've been through a lot over the past few days. You've been through an awful lot over the whole year; far more than most people your age could cope with. Let it out.'

            'I...I just...I'm worried about Harry and Kieran kissed me, and I'm not even sure exactly _why I feel so horrible about that, and I'm sorry you've had such a terrible life. And I just had a nightmare, which is stupid, that's a __kid's thing, and Lestrange was in it and I should've...should've been able to stop him...'_

            'All right,' Snape said, pulling him close. He didn't object to the way Draco clung to him or to the growing wet patch on his shoulder. His hand swept up and down Draco's back in broad, soothing strokes, urging every tear and worry out of him. 'All right. Ssh, sh. Everything will be all right one day, Draco.'

            Eventually Draco calmed down. Snape tilted his chin up so that he could look directly at him. 'Now, what's this about Harper kissing you?'

            'He…well, he sort of did. This morning. It wasn't...he didn't know about me and Harry, and I made sure that he did when I pushed him away, but...'

            'Have you told Harry about it?'

            'No.'

            'Do you feel guilty, then?'

            'A little bit. But...it was like me kissing Harry at the beginning of the year, a little. Like it was something that he'd got to the point of needing, even if only once.'

            'Really.'

            'Yes. But it was different, too. He...' Draco paused, trying to sort his thoughts so that they matched what he felt. 'I don't really care for him, not the way I do for Harry. But he does...make me feel good.'

            'Good in what sense?'

            Draco blushed. 'In a physical sense, sir.'

            'All right.' Snape smiled a little. 'That's fine, Draco, as long as you're not getting confused between lust and real affection. Go on.'

            'I think it's the same for him. He...likes to touch me, but—'

            'He _what?' _

            Draco recoiled a little at his teacher's suddenly sharp tone. 'Not like that. He holds my hand, strokes my wrists. That sort of thing. I don't actually mean much to him, though, and…that hurts. I don't know. I don't like to think that he was just grasping at straws...'

            'Draco...'

            'You know, I asked him once whether he was gay. Because he kept touching me, but I couldn't be sure. And then he said he wasn't, but he kissed me, and…I think he isn't sure what he is or how he feels. Or he is sure, and it scares him. I think maybe it scares him a lot.'

            There was silence for a moment. Professor Snape brushed his hair back awkwardly. 'Draco...I can understand why you'd feel guilty about it for Harry's sake, but if Harper's afraid to work out how he feels, it's his problem and he'll have to work out how to deal with it. All right? There's nothing you can do.'

            'Okay.'

            'Why are you worried about Harry?'

            'He's...I don't know. It's something to do with Ron. I don't think he really knows how to...or doesn't want to...' He broke off, biting his lip. 'Last night when I went after him, we wound up crying together and…well, we were quite a mess by the end of it. But Harry seems to think that ought to have been enough for him. He keeps trying to be cheerful and normal for everyone; he thinks that doing anything else would be letting Ron down. But he's not happy, and it all builds up so the tiniest things set him off, and then he feels so ashamed afterward...'

            'Nothing at all like you or I, then.'

            Draco gave a rueful smile. 'I didn't think of that.'

            Snape nodded. 'It's easier to see these things in other people than in yourself. It could be a problem, though, especially since Harry and Ron were so close.'

            'I don't know what to do about it.'

            'Perhaps he'll stop it himself. Just watch him, for now, and let him know that it's okay—'

            'I've tried.'

            'Well, keep trying then,' Snape said quietly. Draco's lip quivered, and the professor held him close again. 'Just keep an eye on him, for now. Try not to talk about Ron too much, if it bothers him. If things don't change, maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Madam Pomfrey. She'd know a lot more about dealing with something like that than I do. At least...dealing with it properly.'

            'You're all right, sir.'

            'No, I'm not,' he said brusquely. 'My skills at coping with grief are abominable. Ask Dumbledore. Pomfrey's good with people, though, and she's dealt with more of them than I ever will. Now tell me about this nightmare.'

            Draco shook his head. 'It's nothing. It's stupid; just a dream I used to have, and I ought to be over it...'

            'Draco. It's enough to make you go searching me out in the middle of the night. It's not nothing, it's not stupid, and you're obviously not over it.' Draco shook his head again, and Snape tipped his chin upward again. 'Talk to me.'

            'But I—'

            'Draco.'

            'I have the potion; it'll be all right now—'

            '_Draco.'_

            He hung his head. 'It's a memory, sort of, from when I was six. Father was trying to teach me to fight a Dementor; I don't know how he'd got hold of one, but he had, and I just couldn't get my Patronus to work.'

            'I'm not surprised,' Snape muttered. 'At the age of _six?'_

            'He didn't want to waste time. And most of the time I was okay; I usually managed to get the hang of the curses and things he taught me with a bit of practice. He was a good teacher, really.'

            'Really.'

            Draco didn't notice the cold, distant note in Snape's voice. 'Yes. But I couldn't this time, and I was getting really scared and he was furious. Eventually he cast his own Patronus to knock the Dementor out, and then he turned around and hit me. He'd never done anything like that before, and I just _ran. Straight out of the house, through the garden. I could hear father shouting behind me; I didn't know what to do. _

            'There's a wood near the manor that I'd been told never to go into, but I was so terrified this time that I don't think I really realised where I was until I tripped over a root and had to stop and look around. When I did, I thought it was great. I mean, Lucius would never have followed me in there. So I kept wandering around, and the wood began to get dark. I started thinking maybe it would be all right to go back home now. Then...then I heard something. A wolf_ howling. It was pretty close.' _

            Snape gasped. 'Good grief, Draco...' 

            'I screamed and began to run back the way I thought I'd come. I ran away from the howl, anyway. But it just kept coming and coming. I kept on screaming. I thought I was going to die.

            'I heard someone calling my name, but it sounded far away. I saw a tree with really thick roots that went all over a hole in the ground, and I thought if I could get in under there I might be able to hide until the wolf...I don't know. Until it went away. So I made a hole big enough for me to get through and jumped down.' He shook his head. 'Didn't work. The wolf couldn't get through the hole, but it was so close I could feel its slobber on me, and it started tearing up the roots with its teeth to get to me.'

            'How did you get away?' Snape's voice was unusually tight.

            'I didn't. It was nearly on me, and then suddenly someone shouted something. It collapsed, halfway through the hole. Its teeth were so close to my face...and then it changed. It was a werewolf.' Draco shuddered; he thought he heard Snape swear under his breath. 'Mother saved me. She pulled it away and helped me to get out and back to the manor. She must have been in the rose garden when I began shouting. There's no way she could have heard me otherwise. She wasn't very happy.'

            'I should think not,' Snape growled.

            Draco looked up. 'I told her what had happened and she sent me to bed. Later on I heard her arguing with Father, and I crept out to watch.' He grinned suddenly. 'She was _fantastic! I'd never seen her so angry. Lucius was fuming, and I'd never even thought it was possible to fume back when he did that. But Mother did. And then he said something about me not being strong enough, and she slapped him—knocked him flat.' Snape snorted, and he closed his eyes. 'She must have known I was there; she turned, and smiled at me. Lucius never laid a finger on me again. Not personally, anyway.'_

            'But this nightmare...'

            'It's a memory of the wolf chasing me, except that Mother isn't there. In the dream, I can't get through the tree's roots and it catches me every time. I used to have it a lot, but eventually it petered out. The last time I had the dream was the night before I came to Hogwarts.'

            'Really?'

            Draco nodded. 'I was nervous about coming here. I thought I might not be good enough, or I might embarrass Father...and then he told me that Harry Potter was going to be in my year, and I got _really frightened...'_

            'And tonight...?'

            Draco sighed. 'Tonight it came again, but it was different. The werewolf ended up...changing. While it was still after me.'

            There was a lengthy pause as Snape waited for Draco to continue. He began to tremble, and eventually he burst out, 'It was Lestrange!'

            Snape patted his shoulder. 'He's dead, Draco. There's nothing he can do to you.'

            'I know,' Draco whispered. 'I know. But he got me in the dream; he dragged me away and said he was going to make my scalp red and _there was nothing I could do about it! Again!' For the second time that night, he found himself unable to control the flood in his eyes. Snape held him tightly, trying in vain to comfort him._

            'It wasn't your fault, Draco.'

            'It was,' he moaned. 'I shouldn't have made Pansy angry, and I should have been able to get to my wand in time. I should have been able to do something! I was useless!'

            'That's not true,' Snape said sharply. 'Don't you dare say that again. You did damn well to be able to defend yourself against Lestrange, let alone protect Ron. All right? What would you have done if you did have your wand? Do you think a mere _stupefy would have stopped him? Lestrange was a very powerful wizard.'_

            Draco continued to cry. Snape sighed softly, almost cradling him. 'I'm sorry, Draco. I keep forgetting how fragile you really are.'

            Draco sniffed. ''M not...'

            'All right. But you're not very prone to happiness, are you?'

            Draco tried to calm down. 'You can talk,' he muttered, pulling back a little.

            'I suppose that's true.' Snape watched as Draco wiped his eyes dry. He said, quietly, 'My life hasn't been all terrible, you know. Some parts have been...almost wonderful.'

            Draco gave a watery smile. 'Thank you for putting up with me, sir.'

            'It's all right. Keep an eye on Harry. And, Draco—make the most of it when you're with him.'

            Draco nodded, and Snape stepped aside so that he could leave. He hesitated. 'Professor...'

            'Yes?'

            'Do you really believe what you said?'

            'What I said about what?'

            'That everything will be all right one day.'

            Snape sighed. 'Not really. But perhaps some things will begin to be a little better in three weeks' time.'

            Draco smiled. 'Maybe. Good night, sir.'

            'Good night,' he said. As Draco stepped outside, clutching the sleeping potion, and the door swung closed behind him, Snape added in a whisper he barely caught; 'Sleep tight.'


	14. A Different Kind of Winter

**Rating:** **R**

**Warnings:** If you are under fifteen years old and/or homophobic, I seriously suggest you do not read this. This chapter includes slash and coarse language.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

**Pleas:** Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

**Thanks To: **Wednesday, K. Ashley, Alynnia*McKinnon, S. Maldiva (*Grins* Harper doesn't seem to spend much time laughing, so I really couldn't say whether he lives up to his animal persona there or not. With regard to Fawkes—the phoenix holds less judgement over Snape than both you and he think. I'm working on Sirius, believe it or not. It'll take some doing, but he'll get around to accepting Harry and Draco. He will, he will, he will.), Ixi, Alpha Juliet, Shukumei-of-another-world, bwaybaby79, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, Amalin, Twilights Death, Blaze, tess74, Antinua, Jurikichi, Draco's Secret Lover, cattail prophetess, celestinne (^^; Gee, I'm happy you like the story so much. Believe me, between the time the last chapter was updated and now, I've spent a lot of exams thinking about All Torn Down when I ought to have been working out how to pass. You have my very solemn assurance that I will finish it; I'll be kicking myself if I don't, and from the sound of things there will be a few people joining in.), Reena, Blue Moon, AshFarley, Sheron, Dark Peppermint, Erana, Shiko, Beloved, Mari, Arilla Riddle, Sorceress Jade, Blizzard, Spike, Lindsey, White Rain, Kendra A, S. Wing.

**All Torn Down: A Different Kind of Winter**

The irresponsive silence of the land,

The irresponsive sounding of the sea,

Speak both one message of one sense to me:—

Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand

Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band

Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;

But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?

What heart shall touch thy heart? What hand thy hand?—

And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,

And sometimes I remember days of old,

When fellowship seemed not so far to seek 

And all the world and I seemed much less cold,

And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold,

And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.

            — _The Thread of Life, Christina Georgina Rossetti_

            Harry watched Draco amid the morning flurry of owl mail, trying to do so without attracting anyone's attention. The odd downy feather floated to the ground between the house tables, amid the magically-emulated snowflakes drifting downward from the ceiling. It seemed to Harry that a different kind of winter was beginning to settle over Hogwarts.

            Draco had his eyes lowered over his plate while the Slytherins around him spoke and ate as if he wasn't there. Harry glanced at Neville and Ginny, holding hands under the table and speaking quietly to one another as Hermione reached out to snatch up her issue of the Daily Prophet, and back at his boyfriend, empty fingers curling on the tabletop. He bit back the sour sense of unfairness in his mouth with a forkful of fried egg.

            'Oh, that's disgusting!'

            Harry jumped, hastily returning his attention to Hermione, who had thrown the newspaper down in outrage. She sat back, folding her arms and kicking at the floor. 'This is ridiculous. We have to send a Howler to the editor's office.'

            Harry relaxed. She was only talking about the Prophet.

            He looked at the offending page—the first—and gagged.

            'We can't,' Neville was saying. 'There's a law against obstructing the freedom of the wizard press.'

            'What about their duty to provide unbiased reports?'

            'And our right _not to have to see Lucius Malfoy's face at the breakfast table,' Harry muttered, glaring at the photograph set beside an article on the Ministry candidates' latest campaigning escapades. The faux-Malfoy smirked up at him, his teeth glinting, while he held a toddler witch in one arm. The mother, standing a little to the side, seemed somewhat concerned by her child's insistent tugging of a fistful of blonde hair, although Lucius himself appeared indifferent._

            The headline read, 'TUITION TENSION'. Flicking his eyes over the article, Harry caught the gist of a debate sparked by Malfoy the previous week over whether or not magical education should be begun at the same age at which wizard children started their normal schooling. There was uproar over the suggestion—it would completely overturn the current arrangements; Muggleborns would need to be separated from their parents at far too early an age; there would be unfair pressure upon young children to begin showing signs of magic—but for all that, there were some persuasive arguments for the idea as well. Guiltily, Harry considered how much he'd have given to be able to get away from the Dursleys so many years earlier.

            'Malfoy's got money,' Seamus said. 'I bet he's paying someone to give him all this coverage. Anyway, all the other candidates get mentioned too. There just aren't as many pretty pictures of them.'

            Harry shuddered, handing the paper back to Hermione. 'Who'd call Malfoy pretty?'

            'Yeah,' Seamus murmured. 'You'd have to be mad, right?'

            The barb in that remark only registered with Harry several moments later, after they had left the Great Hall for the Healing classroom. He bit his lip, shuffling into the room and sliding into a seat beside Hermione in silence.

            Professor Fletcher began the lesson and Harry allowed his attention to drift, tuning out the droning voice and, moments later, the sound of dozens of quills scratching against parchment. His own hand remained empty.

            Hermione's fingertips brushed his, and he looked up. 'Is something wrong, Harry?'

            He grimaced, sighing. 'Just...you know. Everything.'

            She nodded. 'Nothing's the same, is it? Have you noticed how everyone's been avoiding us?'

            'I thought that was just me.'

            'Professor Fletcher's been staring at you for five minutes now, trying to get up the courage to come over here and tell you to do your work.' She began to write again. 'Hogwarts needs to learn to cope with things like this.'

            'What do you mean?'

             'You heard Dumbledore at the meeting. There's only going to be more fighting from now on. More people are going to die.' Hermione's face twisted as if she were about to cry, but her voice was calm and clinical when she spoke. 'Ron was just the first.'

            Harry patted her arm. 'I miss him too, Mione.'

            A bare flicker of a smile crossed her face. 'You ought to get started. Professor Fletcher looks like he's almost built up enough nerve. And there are the O.W.L.s coming up. We need to get ready for them.'

            'Mm.' It struck Harry, as he watched her bend her head again over the parchment, that a few weeks ago Hermione hadn't seemed half so worried about the O.W.L.s as she was these days. 

            Reluctantly, he picked up his quill and scribbled down the notes on the board without bothering to digest what they actually meant. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter anyway; none of his recent schoolwork seemed to. That was a sentiment probably best kept secret from Hermione; she'd immediately place him under a strict tutoring regime if she knew about it.

            Harry sneaked a glance back at where Draco was sitting, near the corner of the room. There were a lot of things, lately, that seemed to be best kept secret.

            The lesson stretched on and, at some point, ended. Harry found himself being herded outside by Hermione and across the snow-swept grounds for Care of Magical Creatures. 

            Hagrid appeared from his hut as the class began to take up position by their trees, and strode up the path towards them. Interested murmurs arose as people caught sight of Fang following close behind him, and Harry heard someone giggle at the pink umbrella he held in one hand. From the way Hagrid's brows beetled together, he'd heard too.

            'The forest creatures've been gettin' a bit...curious,' he said as he reached the head of the group. He jabbed his thumb back toward the border of the Forbidden Forest, where the gleam of bestial eyes and the forms of watching animals could be spotted here and there amid the leaves and shadows. 'They've pestered some o' the other classes, so this is by way of bein' a warnin' to 'em.'

            Someone near the back of the class sniggered. 'You're going to fight them off with your umbrella?'

            Hagrid's expression darkened as the titters, some apologetic and some outright taunting, arose. He pointed the umbrella at a spot on the ground a few feet in front of him. '_Incendio.' _

            Abrupt silence fell at the flame that leapt up, melting the snow around it. Hagrid doused it with a word and looked up. 'Any questions?'

            Harry grimaced sympathetically at him as the cynics fidgeted and coughed. Between the loss of a considerable enough number of his pupils to result in his taking care of at least three sets of imp mates alone, and the forest animals' increasing lack of reserve, Hagrid's resources and temper had been stretched to their limits over the past two weeks. Impromptu humorists were the last thing he needed.

            'Right. Now, I've got some bad news fer yeh—well, I reckon it's bad. I'd bet a Sickle or two some of yeh're goin' to be pretty happy about it…' he sighed. 'Dumbledore, the centaur Firenze and I've been talking about…things. And…it's been decided that raisin' yer imps isn't as important at the moment as getting to know some o' the forest creatures so's you can fight alongside 'em properly when...when the time comes.'

            Looking at the nest that he and Hermione's imps had built of twigs and knitted pine needles, Harry's heart foundered. He'd grown quite attached to them.

            'I wanted to get 'em all to a point where yeh could see how they raised their families before we released 'em,' Hagrid went on; 'but that's not goin' ter happen anymore. Instead, we're goin' to wait until the eggs've hatched, which should be in a coupla days now, and then we'll let 'em all go into the Forest.

            'Fer today, I want yeh to just make sure the eggs are all safe an' sound. Keep a good eye on 'em and call me over if yeh can see anything movin' about under the shell—things _shouldn't happen for a few days yet, but imps sometimes pop out early just like human babies do.' He added, as the students turned away to begin work: 'Be careful o' the parents, too. This close to hatching time, they start gettin' snippy, and they might even go fer each other if they're worried enough.'_

            Even with that warning, Harry heard several yelps from classmates who'd got too close to their charges as he examined the eggs.

            They were becoming increasingly difficult to find, even though he knew by now exactly where they had been laid: the imps' changing camouflage was excellent. Once contrived to look like the leaves around them, the eggs now resembled nothing so much as large drops of frozen dew hanging from the branches; they even gleamed where they caught the sunlight. With snow and ice building up on the branches each morning, it was an extremely good ruse. Harry reached out tentatively to touch one with the tip of his finger.

            He paused at the angry hiss that rose from a knothole in the trunk. His imp sprang upward, tiny claws raking the air; its dappled face distorted with hormonal rage, and pounced on his wrist. Harry grimaced, watching tiny pinpricks of blood form where the claws dug in.

            'Found mine,' he said, prying it from his hand.

            'I think mine's hiding in the nest,' Hermione said, peering around the branches. Her eyes widened at the marks on his hand. 'Harry, Hagrid warned us not to get too close! Look what it's done!'

            He shrugged. 'It doesn't really hurt. Anyway, it drew him out, didn't it?'

            Hermione pursed her lips, but chose not to comment. She disappeared again to the other side of the tree. 'I count fifteen on this side. I think we've lost a few.'

            'Maybe. I've only got seventeen that I can see over here, but...' Harry tapped one of the eggs, keeping a firm grip on his agitated imp. '...They keep changing so much it's difficult to place them. I guess we'll find out when they start hatching.'

            'I suppose so. I can't find any broken shells anywh—'

            Hermione's voice was drowned out by a sudden commotion on the edge of the imps' grounds that lay nearest to the Forbidden Forest, distinguished by the squeals of Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil. Someone shouted for Hagrid, and as the half-giant lumbered into view from amid the trees, umbrella in hand with Fang trailing behind him, Harry and Hermione both looked around to see what was happening.

            Between the branches and the other heads bobbing about to get a look, Harry managed to make out the form of a luminous white horse wandering among the class. It swung its head, and he caught sight of a stub of horn above its forehead.

'All right, all right, everyone just get back,' Hagrid called. 'Back to what yeh were doin', Miss Patil; I know it's pretty but it ain't tame. Looks like a littl'un to me. Just keep out of its way and it'll do no harm; let it find its own way out. Prob'ly lost…'

Harry's attention was diverted by a trace of movement over his left eye; he raised his head and stared at a rounded icicle suspended above him on a twig's tip.

            His imp stirred, restless within his grasp, the claws of its hind legs scrabbling for purchase against his fingers. With a sigh, Harry lifted it to his shoulder, taking the nip he received on the ear as a dubious sign of affection.

            'You'll be a rotten father,' he said conversationally, not taking his eyes from the glistening sphere. The imp grunted. 'Your kids will turn out just like you, you'll see. And you're going to have at least thirty-two of them, if Hermione and I've done our maths right. I know she will have...'

            There was that flicker again; a quick darkening from within the egg as something pressed against the shell, trying to find its way out. The branch trembled a little with the force of the movement. Harry gave a slight smile.

            'Right. I hope you've been looking forward to this—'

            'Harry!'

            He jumped at the sudden cry, and looked up into Hermione's ashen face. She wasn't staring at him, though; her eyes were locked on a point well past his shoulder. She pointed wordlessly. As Harry turned, his ears filtered in the urgent message that the class had gone very quiet. 

            He saw the cause of the sudden silence, and his world shrunk.

            The unicorn had not found its way out. It had found Draco, and at that moment its head was bent low, the tip of the horn pressed in between his shoulder blades as he knelt on the ground. Something in the strain of its muscles that stated, quite clearly, that going within three feet of it would be an extremely stupid and painful decision.

            Draco, caught with an imp dangling from one finger, was still as a statue. With painstaking care not to make any sudden movements, he forced the little creature to let go, put it on the ground wherefrom it scuttled into the lower branches of its tree, and very, very slowly, got to his feet. The horn moved with him all the way.

            Harry could feel a burning ache on his shoulder where his imp's claws had begun to find their way through his clothing. He gazed about until he saw Hagrid, standing wide-eyed and immobile several feet away. He tried to find his voice.

'H-Hagrid...' he said, taking a small step forward; 'What's—' 

            The unicorn snorted, and Hagrid raised his umbrella slightly, but it was directed towards Harry.

            'Stay back,' he said. 'I know yer worried, Harry, but just now it'd be a really good idea to keep back and not say anythin'...Malfoy, turn around, face it down. It won't do a thing if yeh show it yer not afraid...'

            A soft, nervous titter drifted among the students at that, as they watched Draco turn, his face a mask of terror. Harry wanted to scream at them.

            'Good, good...' Hagrid murmured. 'Stare it down, yeh've got nothin' ter hide...'

            Draco was looking bolt ahead, straight at Harry, as he stood there. So Harry could see exactly what was happening inside his mind as Hagrid swivelled the umbrella until it was pointed at the beast, and took a smooth, slow step forward.

            The horn blurred as it shifted upward from Draco's chest to his throat. His eyes rolled back so far that Harry could only see the whites. Hagrid stepped back, but the unicorn didn't move, its gaze locked on Draco's heart.

            'Don' let it scare yeh, Malfoy—'

            Draco's eyes rolled around again to glare at the teacher. His fists clenched.

            'Don't get angry,' Hagrid said sharply. 'It'll only hurt yeh if yeh give it a reason. It's only little. Get in control and it'll let yeh be.'

            Harry felt his imp climb up onto the ridge of his ear, tangling its forepaws in his hair as it sought a handhold. It was whimpering urgently; he overruled it as unimportant.

            He watched Draco's fingers uncurl and rise, trembling. They flinched when the unicorn snorted, but continued to move upward. Draco bent his head back, seemingly on the verge of fainting, and wrapped his fingers about the tip of the horn—

            Two screams, one equine; one human, rose above the trees as the unicorn tore itself from Draco's grip. It wheeled about, eyes wild. Harry dodged aside, dragging Hermione with him, as the beast surged forward, unmindful of what it trampled in its panic to get out. Too late, he heard his imp's wail and the cracking of a branch.

In the next moment, the rest of the class wisely began getting back to work while Hagrid and Draco began to shout at each other. Amid the noise, Harry's imp slid from his shoulder and pattered across the ground to the fallen branch. In the midst of the trampled leaves, and twigs was a mess of broken shell, still gleaming with a wan sheen, covered in a sticky clear fluid contaminated with tendrils of crimson.

Harry sank down to his knees, watching the grey little figure begin to poke about among the debris, crooning mournfully. He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

'Thirty-one, then,' she sighed. 'I suppose it could have been a lot worse.'

He reached out and began to sift through the pieces of shell with the imp. Hermione dipped her head to stare at him.

'Harry, there's nothing you can do about it. All right?' When he failed to respond, she shook her head and stood up, muttering that the nest might have been damaged. She left him to check.

Bit by bit, Harry uncovered the baby imp's body. It was about half the length of Harry's thumb, and a muddy brown marred by dark red blotches on its limbs, where it had suffered worst from the unicorn's hooves. Its right forepaw was completely mangled.

Gently, Harry lifted it up in his fingers. The grey imp clambered onto his hand with it. It crouched over the body and began to shake it, still whimpering. Eventually Harry pulled the imp away.

'There's no point,' he said, laying his thumb across the baby's chest. 'I'm sorry…'

_…beat…_

'…Harry?'

Hermione reappeared, holding the nest, which was slightly dented and had come away from the fastenings on its branch but was otherwise unharmed. She was smiling.

_…beat…beat…_

'I don't think we lost any after all…'

He got to his feet, keeping his thumb on the imp so that he didn't lose the tiny pulse. She proffered the nest. Hearing movement, he peered into the darkness beyond the ragged entrance.

'There are five in there, not counting mum,' Hermione said. 'That makes thirty-seven. That's what we began with. We didn't lose one!'

Harry lifted his thumb and pulled Hermione's hand over his so that she could feel the beat too. Her eyes widened, and he grinned. 'No. Not one.'

'We will if we don't get Hagrid to look at this,' she said, stroking it. 'Come on.'

The argument between Draco and Hagrid had boiled down to a muttered diatribe as the half-giant examined the bloodied hand with which Draco had grasped the unicorn's horn, and even that dried up as Hagrid saw them approach.

'We've got an injured imp here,' Hermione said. Hagrid took one look at the baby and sagged.

'I'll be having some long words with Firenze next time I see him. All this over a stray unicorn…' he sighed. 'The three of yeh'd better get inside my house. I'm sure the rest o' the class knows when lunch starts, yes?'

There were nods of concurrence in reply to the question. Hagrid whistled for Fang and ushered them all into the hut. 

Hagrid hung his umbrella on a hook behind the door as they settled themselves into oversized chairs around his table, Draco nursing his hand carefully. He turned around and clapped his hands together.

'All right. First things first—let's get a look at this mite. Malfoy, will yeh be all right to get that bit o' horn out on yer own?'

Draco grunted, already working at the cut in his palm. Harry dragged his seat over to him. Silently, he took Draco's hand in his own and, spotting the silver-white sliver embedded in it, began to work it out.

He listened to Hagrid moving jars and crockery about on shelves and chatting to Hermione with one ear while Draco flinched and took turns at thanking him and cursing. The half-giant found whatever it was he was looking for and set it down on the table with a dull _thunk._

'Right, now give us it here…I'd not make such a fuss if I were you, Malfoy. That was a stupid thing ter do.'

'You helped a lot,' Draco muttered.

'I was tellin' yeh what ter do, and if you'd listened instead o' panicking, yeh'd be fine now.'

'You didn't tell me not to do that!'

'Well, it's pretty basic unicorn knowledge not to touch the horn,' Hagrid said, taking the lid off a jar. 'They were nearly hunted to extinction once, just fer the horns, and it's a sensitive area in the young'uns anyhow.' He motioned for Hermione to hand him the imp. 'Oh, poor little bugger. This'll hurt a bit, I reckon. Better give it a drop of brandy or it'll have a heart attack.'

A few more cautious tugs on the piece of horn, and it came free. Under the guise of searching for more slivers in the cut, Harry gave Draco's fingertips a squeeze. He smiled when he felt it returned.

 'Hermione, have yeh got a hold of the mother? And Harry, yeh've got the dad with yeh? Good, just turn 'em round fer a sec. Wouldn't want 'em to see what I'm goin' to do; I don't know who'd survive…'

There was a scrape of metal, and Harry heard Hermione say, 'Hagrid, what's that—' before a heavy thud and a scream. He looked up.

'Sorry 'bout that,' Hagrid said. He picked something covered in blood from the tabletop and threw it at Fang, who snapped it up from midair. 'I know it's not nice, Hermione, but it's best just to get it over with, and it would have done nothin' but get infected if we'd left it. Now we dab a little of this over the wounds and yer imp'll be right as rain—wonderful stuff, this; someday I oughtta thank Snape fer telling me where to go—there, all done.'

The imp, splayed out on the table as if sleeping on the world's biggest bed, was covered in what looked like grey sludge. Its right arm ended in a paw-less stump.

The father slid from his perch on Harry shoulder and scampered across to it. It nudged the barrel body anxiously; the baby hiccupped in reply and rolled over.

'Do yeh want some o' this, Malfoy?' Hagrid proffered the jar that held the sludge. 'Might help that cut heal.'

'No,' Draco said. 'I have something else in my room that I can use.'

Hagrid's brow rose. 'Present from yer father, eh?'

'No!'

There was a short, thorny silence, followed by Hagrid standing to clean the knife he'd used and put the brandy bottle and the jar back on the shelf. With his back still turned, he said, 'It does yeh no good at all ter be so touchy, yeh know. I didn't mean anything by that. An' if yeh keep snappin' at every little thing I'll have yeh out on yer ear without knowin' what just happened.'

Draco gritted his teeth, but sounded sincere when he spoke: 'Sorry.'

'I bet.' Hagrid sat back down. 'Now. What do yeh think was happenin' there, hm?'

'I don't know.'

'D'yeh think the unicorn was really just lost?'

'I...' Draco hesitated. 'Snape…thinks the forest creatures have a secret agenda.'

Hagrid sat back. 'He does, does he? And I suppose he reckons that's a bad thing?'

'Why shouldn't he?'

'He's not seeing what's in front of him. And that's help. We're goin' ter need it, and at the moment Firenze and the others are prepared ter give it. Same with everyone in the Order of the Phoenix, really. They all want something out of it, but the point is that they're the ones who're prepared to put something into it first.' Hagrid paused. 'Firenze seems to think that the three of yeh are goin' to be puttin' in a lot.'

'He's been watching us?' Hermione frowned.

'Sorta.' Hagrid chewed his lip. 'In the only way a centaur ever bothers to watch anything on earth, at least.'

'Through the stars,' Harry said dryly.

'Yep.'

'Oh, _divination_.'

'Don't sneer, Hermione, it don't look nice on yeh. The centaurs are good at what they do. They've been prophesying about Draco and Harry a lot, and about you, too, only not in quite the same way. So creatures in the forest've been keeping an eye on yeh, that's all.'

'I don't think that's all that unicorn was doing,' Draco murmured.

'No, nor do I, but that's why it targeted yeh. The thing is—see, hierarchy in the Forbidden Forest's a tricky thing. The centaurs are the rulers in there, but it's the unicorns who guard the place…'

'They think I'm a threat?'

'That one certainly did,' Hermione said. 

Hagrid nodded. 'It might've just wanted to take a peek at one of the humans it'd heard so much about lately, but it found something in yeh that it didn't expect and didn't like. The thing is…yeh know about all the Muggle claptrap about unicorns bein' the purest of the pure and being able to single out evil? Well, that's sorta true, but—' Draco stiffened, though he stifled what he was about to say when Hagrid raised his hand. '—_But it doesn't mean that yeh are. Unicorns don't see pure and impure the way humans do, and this prob'ly has more to do with how yeh feel yerself than what the unicorn thinks of yeh.'_

'Mm.'

Hagrid gave him an odd look, which transferred to Harry before he went on. 'Perhaps yeh don't want to say anythin' about it in front of the rest of us, and that's fair enough, but I do think yeh know what I'm talking about. If yeh don't want somethin' like that ter happen again, yeh should let it be. All right?'

'Perhaps the unicorns will have to learn to put up with—'

'Perhaps yeh can make an effort, Malfoy!' Hagrid snapped. 'Yeh've got a real penchant fer getting' yerself scarred, lad. Don't go lookin' fer it, not in _my_ class.'

Draco jolted to his feet. 'I didn't do it on purpose!'

'No, but what about next time? What'll yeh call it then, eh?'

Draco turned to leave, but he did stop at Hagrid's call.

'Firenze keeps sayin' something about yeh not bein' a Malfoy. Know what he's on about?'

'I think it means I've gone as far against my family as I can. That doesn't mean I wasn't with them once. I've got plenty of dirty little Malfoy secrets, if that's what you're asking.' He opened the door, but turned again before he stepped outside, frowning. 'Where's Harper in all of this?'

Hagrid shrugged. 'Around and about. He doesn't say much, but he always seems to be near Firenze.'

'Does Firenze say anything about a hyena in his prophecies?'

'Not that I've heard. But as Snape says, he has his own agenda. I doubt we hear everythin' he sees.'

Draco's expression darkened. He stepped back and the door closed on him.

Hermione bit her lip. 'Hagrid—'

She was interrupted by a whining yawn from the sleeping imp. The father, who'd been crouching close and prodding it every once in a while to make sure it was still alive, picked the little form up and toddled across the table towards the nest she still held in her hands. Hermione brought it down to his level and watched them climb inside.

'Yeh need to keep an eye on that one,' Hagrid said quietly. 'I don't think yeh should release it with the others. It'll take a while to heal that wound, whatever yeh put on it, and its balance will never be the same as the others'. Could wind up doing itself a lot of damage, especially when they start tryin' ter leap about between branches and things.'

'I'll take care of it,' she said. 'I'm sure an imp can put up with Lavender and Pavarti in the same dormitory.'

'What were yeh sayin' before?'

'What has Firenze been saying about me that's not quite the same as Harry and Draco?'

'Not like yeh at all to worry about horoscopes, Hermione,' Hagrid said lightly.

'You said they were good at it…'

Hagrid leaned forward and patted her hand. 'There's nothin' ter worry about. What I heard was, when it comes down ter beating Voldemort, yeh'd be at the start and the boys'll be at the finish. Firenze hasn't mentioned anything about gruesome deaths or whatnot.'

Hermione's hands began to shake. She set the nest down abruptly. '…There's no need to say anything about it…death happens in any war, right?…No need to, to _worry_…'

Hagrid's eyes went wide as she slumped over, shoulders quaking, howling into her elbow. In a second he was out of his chair and around the other side of the table with his arms wrapped around her.

'Hermione, I didn't mean it like that, not at all—look, here, use my hanky—don' worry, it's clean—'

 Harry felt the corners of his eyes burning. He looked away for a second, fighting back the tears; then, feeling acutely awkward, he joined in the hug.

'—I know yeh both miss Ron,' Hagrid went on, quietly; '—And I know yeh miss him in different ways and that I can't know how much yeh've been hurt by all this…but yeh've got ter pick up and carry on, all right? Yeh can't look back. Calm down a little, Hermione…good girl…I know yeh're goin' to make Ron proud one day. A Weasley like him doesn't fall fer just anyone, see? And in the meantime…' Gently, he pushed her back and wiped the last few tears from her eyes. Harry withdrew his arms from around her. 'In the meantime, if yeh ever need a shoulder to cry on, I've got one for each of yeh. Okay?'

They nodded. Hermione looked down at the crumpled purple handkerchief in her hand ruefully. 'I'll get this cleaned before I give it back to you.'

'Don't worry about that. I've got four or five more somewhere around here. Are yeh all right now?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Why don't yeh put the nest back in yer tree now, and go and get yehself cleaned up a bit? Yeh'll feel better for it.'

She gave a wan smile and kissed him on the cheek. 'Thanks, Hagrid.'

'That's all right.' He stood up with them and opened the door. 'Yeh can come down here whenever yeh need to.'

They said their farewells and, once Hermione was sure that the nest was secure in the tree again, began the walk back up to the castle. Hermione sniffed once or twice. Harry looked sidelong at her: hair frizzed from Hagrid's clumsy comforting; face red and blotchy; eyes thoughtful, as always, in spite of it all. He found himself smiling, if a little forlornly.

She looked up. 'What is it?'

'Nothing. You're a mess, that's all.'

She snorted. 'Thanks.'

'Wish I knew how to tease you properly about it.'

'I wouldn't want you to,' Hermione said quietly. 'I don't want you trying to fill in for him, Harry.'

'Sorry.'

'Never mind.'

They entered the castle together.

~~~*~~~

**_PEARL_**** FIGUREHEAD FOUND!**

SABOTAGE CLAIM SUBSTANTIATED! 

The missing figurehead from the former Minister for Magic's yacht _The Pearl was yesterday located in a tidal pool by a young Muggle fisherman._

The fisherman had this to say before his memory was Obliviated: 'It was just like magic! This great wooden thing swimming down there with the fishes! Wait till I tell me mates in the pub!—_gnnh—_'

The figurehead has since been recovered by the Ministry and examined by a team of wizard experts in magically animated objects. The findings of the group all pointed to direct sabotage.

'There are all sorts of indications that she's been badly tampered with,' said Mr Edmund Rattleby, the team's spokesperson. 'And you can't try to tell me it was just the Minister's kids having a lark, either. The figurehead's still confused, and it takes some strong magic to dent the navigational system on one of these.'

Mr Rattleby confirmed that the spells used were a form of Dark Magic, but said that he and his associates were thus far unable to track the source.

Several ministerial candidates have seized upon the group's findings as evidence of the return of You-Know-Who, demanding that national defence and security be made a top priority and that the Order of Aurors be reinstated. Some have promised outright war should they be elected.

Other candidates claim that their counterparts are no more than scaremongers who aim to score cheap political points from the sketchy initial findings.

Mr Rattleby has said that a full report will be published once the team has concluded their investigations.

With elections to be held in three days' time, many believe the finding of the figurehead could be integral to the final selection of the new Minister.

See page 3 for Ministerial and candidate opinions on this event.

See page 5 for current public opinion polls.

            —_February 13 2001, The Daily Prophet_

Harry passed the paper on to Neville with a sigh. Around them, the clatter of plates and chatter that accompanied a typical Hogwarts lunch rang through the Great Hall. 'Is there _anything in there that isn't about the elections?'_

'A few Wizard Interest stories, that's all,' Hermione said. 'About time they found the figurehead, though.'

'At least Lucius Malfoy wasn't on the front page today,' Neville said, thumbing through the pages. 'Let's see…he's for war, she's for war, they're not…they're saying nothing like this would have happened if we'd voted them in already…Malfoy's against war; there's a surprise…'

'The less prepared the Ministry is, the easier it'll be for Voldemort to take over,' Seamus nodded, reading over Neville's shoulder. 'Hello, Melchior's doing the same thing. What could that mean?'

'Don't know,' Neville muttered through a sandwich. He swallowed. 'Let's take a look at the polls.'

'You know people are going to be changing their minds right up to the last minute,' Hermione said. 'Who cares who's in front now, as long as it's not Malfoy?'

'We want to see what the candidates are doing to get people to change to _them_,' Seamus said. 'Malfoy is down, too; that's good…'

'He's rising, though,' Neville said, staring at the changing chart. 'Must have made another speech. Still, Melchior's keeping up with him. I think he's our best chance in this.'

'I don't like him much. Where's what's-his-name…the huge one with the nasty grin. Made everyone laugh at the last meeting.'

'You mean Snape's friend? I can never remember his name. Hang on, they've got photos back on the opinions page…'

Harry leaned over toward Hermione and murmured, 'Just as well you waited until we had the lunch hour before letting them read it. They'll be at this for ages.' She nodded. 'I'm going up to the dormitory, okay?'

'I'll see you later, then.'

Harry spared a glance for the Slytherin table before he left the others to forecasting who was the certain victor of the upcoming election. He made his way quickly through the passageways towards Gryffindor Tower, passing only a few people on his way. 

As he went, he pulled a ragged note from his pocket and flicked his eyes over it. He paused for a second and looked about at the corridor he was currently in. He looked back at the piece of paper and then turned from the stairway leading upward from the right, which would usually take him straight up to the dormitory entrance. Instead, Harry headed left, then downward for several flights of stairs, and then through a rapid series of turns that left him wondering where exactly he was and extremely glad he had a map.

At the end of it all, he found himself confronted by an old door hanging from hinges that were more rust than metal. There was a hole where the doorknob ought to have been, through which a feeble shaft of light shone. Harry tucked the map into his pocket, hooked his fingers through it and pulled.

The light in the small room beyond issued from a bare window in the far wall and hung in the air as if it had built up with the dust over centuries; it was blocked only by Draco's figure where he leant against a wall looking out through the window. He turned at the creak and moan of the hinges and smiled at Harry.

            'Hello, dear.'

'How do you find these places?' Harry said, stepping inside. He went to the window and peered out; a few feet away the view ended with a wall of stone. Looking downward only led to more stone, but somewhere above he could see a flash of something reflective embedded in the wall—a mirror, crystal or piece of glass; it was impossible to tell which. Harry wondered if he would be able to see a chink of sky if he leaned out far enough.

'I wandered about a lot when I got out of the Hospital Wing.' Draco moved behind him. Harry felt his arms lock about his midsection, and settled back against him.

'Do you know what it's for?'

Draco laughed. 'For all I know it's a glorified broom closet. I think the founders of Hogwarts built rooms like this to confuse people with later on.' His lips brushed Harry's cheek. 'I do know that no one will disturb us here, though.'

'Good.' Harry turned his head, a question on his lips, and ran into a kiss. He barely considered pulling away before his eyes became languid slits and he opened his mouth to Draco's gentle ministrations. 

He shivered as Draco's fingers traced random patterns across his stomach and up his sides, and tried to turn around, wanting to be able to touch in the way he was being touched. At some point, though, he stumbled, and after an instant of confusion wound up with his back against the windowsill, leaning at an angle that made him feel bizarrely smaller than he was as Draco looked down at him through the faded light.

'Are you all right?'

The question passed through his ears but got lost on the way to his mind as he became aware of the closeness of their bodies and the way Draco's hands were settled on his hips. One trailed upward over his body to cup his face as Draco bent down for another kiss.

Harry sighed into it, raising his hands to play with Draco's hair. The arm at his hip moved around to support his back and he found himself pressing up against him, craving the heat of his body. A strange yearning welled up in him, all too quickly doused with a sharp wash of fear. He broke away.

Too close… 

'…Harry?' Draco pulled back, looking confused.

He shook himself. There was something he wanted to know. This was _important_. 'Draco…the other day—the unicorn…'

'…Is not something I want to talk about right now,' the other boy whispered, pulling him upright.

'Why not?'

'Because I could be kissing you instead.' Draco frowned. 'What's the matter?'

            '_Do_ you think you know why it did that?'

            Draco sighed. 'There could be all sorts of reasons, Harry. Hagrid said they don't think the way we do.'

            'But he said it might have something to do with how you were feeling, too.' Harry traced the white scar scoring Draco's throat with his fingertips. 'I don't want you to keep feeling bad, just because of these.'

            Draco took Harry's hand and moved it away from the scar. 'I know.' He squeezed the fingers, and raised a small smile when Harry squeezed back. 'I don't much like it myself.'

            'Is that it?' Harry said as he was coaxed into a snug embrace.

            'I don't know.' Draco nuzzled his neck. 'I told you, it could be dozens of things.'

            'Mm.' 

Not wholly satisfied, Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax again. He pressed his lips to Draco's cheek, then sought out his mouth, aware of the seconds spinning away from them. He felt an echo of the need he'd felt a moment ago steal back. A hint of warning came with it, but he overrode that, clenching his fingers at the nape of Draco's neck. They only had a handful of moments left here; he didn't want to waste them.

He whimpered when Draco ended the kiss and stepped away, murmuring, 'We'd better go. People will be wondering where you are.'

Harry nodded, but when Draco opened the door he made no move toward it. Draco looked back at him, bewildered. 

'Is something wrong?'

            'Not…not really.' He sighed at Draco's raised eyebrow. 'I just wish we didn't have to do this.'

            'What do you mean?'

            'This…' He waved his hand around at the room. 'All this! Hiding in closets, snatching a few minutes here and there. I…I hate it. I hate lying about where I'm going, and then only to spend a little while with you before the next class, or curfew.'

            Draco let the door grind back on its hinges. 'It's all we can do. I thought this was how you wanted it.'

            'Not like this. You know, Neville and Ginny hold hands every mealtime? That's all they do, but we couldn't even get away with sitting at the same table.' He kicked at the floor, stirring up the dust. 'I know it's the only way we can keep anyone else from finding out, but…'

            'But…?'

            'I don't know. I feel as if it wouldn't matter so much if I just had one close friend who didn't mind.'

            'You haven't told Hermione.'

            Harry shook his head quickly. 'I'm not going to. It…it really wouldn't be fair to her. Not right now. And I don't want to tell anyone else who doesn't already know.' He added, more quietly, 'I wish I knew where Sirius was. I want to see him again.'

            'You could ask Dumbledore.'

            'If he was going to tell me, he'd have done it by now.'

            'Then we're stuck, aren't we?' Draco sighed. He stepped forward and took Harry's hand. 'I'm sorry, Harry, but we have to go now. We can talk about this later.'

            _And later and later,_ Harry thought sadly as he followed him out and through the passages until they split up at the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He headed for the Divinations Tower, digging his hands into his pockets.

            His fingers brushed an edge of crinkled paper in his right pocket. He pulled the little map out and stared at it, ignoring the fact that he was late. He could rely on Professor Trelawney to supply his excuse in the form of a belated gloom-laden prediction.

            An idea unfolded with the paper.

~~~*~~~

            That evening, Harry ate dinner quickly, made his excuses and went from a brisk walk to a jog within seconds of leaving the Great Hall, moving with the speed of faint hope. This time he did turn right up the stairway to Gryffindor Tower. He called out the password to the Fat Lady's portrait as he reached the final step and climbed through the portal as it swung aside. He strode through the empty common room and up into his dormitory.

            As soon as the door was closed behind him, he opened his trunk and began to methodically ransack its contents. He hadn't used what he was looking for since the first term, and as a result he knew it would be buried somewhere under the clothes, books and miscellaneous other items that he used every day. After half-emptying the trunk, and several minutes' blind groping, his hand located the roll of parchment he was seeking and pulled it out. He piled everything else back inside and shut the lid, settling on the edge of the bed.

            It was an outside chance, he knew, but it was better to have this hope and exhaust it than have none at all. He unrolled the parchment and held the tip of his wand to it.

            'I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good.'

            The Marauder's Map sprang into life. Harry smiled at the greeting of  '_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs' and proceeded to scan the map for a dot labelled 'Sirius Black'. He knew by now that the Marauders hadn't been quite as thorough in their Hogwarts cartography as he'd once thought—probably no one would ever find all the rooms and tricks to the castle—but there were still places marked there that he'd never yet been into, and Dumbledore might have put Sirius up in one of them._

            He worked from the layout of the top floors down, scanning each of the towers first. None of them yielded anything of help, and nor did any of the upper floors. He noted that Draco had left the Great Hall and was moving about near Chimaera Hall, and that Neville and Ginny were on their way to the tower—they probably wanted some time to themselves in the common room—while the others were still in the Great Hall. He cast his eye further downward, into the dungeons.

            And there he was. Not in a room anywhere, but actually moving down a corridor towards the potions classroom and Snape's office. Where—yes—Snape's own dot was hovering. Harry frowned, wondering what was going on and why Sirius was out where students might be able to see him. But then—he might be using his Animagus form, after all. A dog might attract a little attention, but nothing like the panic caused by the face of an escaped murderer.

            He folded the map up and left the dormitory and common room, sparing a smile for Neville and Ginny as he passed them going down the stairs. He made his way through the castle, occasionally consulting the Marauder's Map to make sure he didn't lose track of Sirius before he caught up to him.

            By the time he got to the dungeons, Sirius had got to Snape's office and the pair of them were moving about there. Sirius seemed to be pacing about while Snape, from what Harry could tell, was facing the cupboard in which he kept his private potions stores.

            They were still there when he reached the office, but Sirius had moved to Snape's side of the room. As Harry drew up to the door, he heard their voices through the wood:

            '—difficulty in acquiring the necessary ingredients.' That was Snape. 'Another day and I'd have sent it myself, but since you insist on suspecting sabotage—'

            'Well, I know you, Snape. You'll destroy anything that matters to me and call it vengeance for a stupid adolescent prank.'

            'I hardly think attempted murder can be called a prank,' Snape said, 'Although I agree with the 'stupid adolescent' part of your description.'

            'What are you trying to destroy now?' Sirius's tone pulled the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to attention. He wondered whether it would be wiser to leave them to their argument or barge into the room right then.

            'What are you talking about?'

            'Malfoy told me you helped he and Harry get together.' Harry stiffened, listening intently as his godfather's voice descended into heavy sarcasm and disgust. 'What is this, Snape? More of the bloody vendetta, or are you trying to recreate Harlow and Peters? Just like you to kill two—'

            'Shut up!' Harry jumped. 'It has nothing to do with that.'

            'You'd never help James Potter's son out of the goodness of your heart. Just how did you help, anyway?' There was a tinkle of glass. 'Slip him something from one of these bottles, did you?'

            Harry shook with sudden rage. _How stupid does Sirius think I am?_

            'Leave those alone. I advised him, nothing more.'

            'Manipulated him, you mean.'

            'No,' Snape sneered. 'I simply did what you ought to have been doing for him for the past fifteen years, except that _you_ got yourself caught and bundled off to Azkaban for murder! And it was about time!'

            There was a sudden thud accompanied by the sound of jars rattling dangerously, and somewhere behind that a pained gasp. Harry's hand was on the doorknob instantly; he twisted it, listening to Snape snarl:

            'Get your hands off me, Black. Take what you came for and leave before I call Dumbledore.'

            The door swung open in silence, and as Harry took in the tableau before him he wished that it had creaked. A small, full potion flask stood on the edge of Snape's desk, simply labelled 'R. L'. Behind the desk, Sirius had Snape by the collar, jammed up against his potions cabinet. Harry realised with a sick feeling that his godfather was at least two inches taller and a good deal stronger than the Potions Master.

            Snape's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of him over Sirius's shoulder. 'You really were stupid to come down here at this hour, Black. Anyone could just walk in on us…'

            Harry took that as his cue to shut the door. 

Sirius stiffened at the sound of the click. He set Snape down and turned around, slowly. He froze when he saw Harry.

'You think I'd let Snape talk me into liking Draco?' Harry said, the rage fading at the look on his godfather's face, leaving him hollow. 'You think I'd swallow one of his potions without knowing what it was?'

'Harry…' Sirius looked like the human shell he'd been two years ago. Harry felt a brief flicker of pity for him. 'Snape…is a monster. He ruins everything…'

'Stuff Snape,' he said. 'No offence meant, sir. This is about me and Draco.' He brandished the map, feeling the anger spring up again. He didn't deserve this. Padfoot was supposed to _help him. 'Which, oddly enough, is what I came down here to talk to you about. Why are you looking for someone to blame, Sirius?'_

No answer was forthcoming. Harry looked at Snape. 'Would you mind leaving us alone for a moment, please?'

Snape's brow arched. 'You trust him?'

He scowled. 'He's my godfather, sir, and he doesn't have a decades-long grudge against me.'

'The boy has your manners,' the Potions Master muttered before slipping out.

Harry folded his arms, glaring at Sirius. 'I thought you wanted to understand.'

'I can't,' Sirius whispered. 'I can't believe that you've chosen…_Malfoy_, of all people…to…to…'

'To what?' Harry said sharply. 'What do you think we're doing? Because at the moment it's not much.'

'Good.'

Harry swallowed. 'What's so wrong with it? Why can't anyone I tell just accept it?'

Sirius's lip twisted bitterly. 'Perhaps you'd prefer Snape as a godfather—'

'I think I'd prefer my own dad!' Harry shouted. 'But he's not here, is he? And I don't have a best friend with me either, not anymore, and you know what? He couldn't stand the idea either, but in the end he said it was all right. In the end, _he_ understood.' He took a few deep breaths, forcing the lump back down his throat, watching guilt and indignation flicker across Sirius's face. He stepped forward. 

'We met at lunch today; in a poky little room Draco called a glorified broom closet. And we kissed and, yeah, if you'd seen us you'd probably squirm and say boys our age shouldn't be doing that sort of thing, but I bet you used to behave exactly the same way with girls. And we've been meeting in odd little places like that, at stupid times like that, for the past two weeks, Sirius. We're going to keep doing it, regardless of what you think.'

Sirius's face twisted again, more with pain than bitterness this time. 'And Malfoy tried to convince me he was interested in something more than sex.'

'His name's Draco!' Harry snapped. 'Bloody well use it, and don't you dare try to tell me he's looking for an easy screw—'

'Watch your tongue!'

'—That's not something I'm prepared to give.' He swallowed again. 'Tell me you had more faith in me than that.'

            Sirius licked his lips. 'Harry, you don't know how manipulative the Malfoy clan is. And if Snape's in on it too...he's done them so many favours in the past, you have no idea...' He shook his head. 'I'm sorry I haven't been around for you, but you don't have to do this. I don't like the idea of you being alone with him. I certainly don't want you behaving that way, giving him ideas...'

 'We probably wouldn't even act like that except that we only get a few moments at a time together! I happen to _like_ the idea of just holding hands or knowing that he's nearby, but we can't do that because then, Sirius, someone like you would see, and the whole school would be against us because Harry Potter happens to have a _boyfriend_.' He paused. Sirius looked shaken, but Harry didn't wait for him to open his mouth and say what he was really thinking. 'I probably wouldn't even care about that so much, except that I don't have a father or a best friend or anyone like that to talk to about it. Apparently I don't have a godfather either.'

Sirius went rigid. 'What are you saying?'

Harry shrugged, and winced as his voice quavered when he spoke. 'I-I want to come out. I don't want to have to keep hiding what I'm doing with Draco, but to do that, I…God, I need you, Sirius. I need your help so much. But you're not helping at all, you're not _trying at all, you're just making yourself part of the problem. So what's the point?' He made the mistake of appealing one last time. 'Can't you forget whatever you thought about David and Morgan and just let us be?'_

Sirius just stared at him and shook his head. 'Not now.'

He plucked Remus's potion from the desk and moved to leave, but Harry caught his arm as he passed by. 'At least tell me where you're staying. I'm sick of knowing you're in the castle somewhere but still having to use owl mail when I want to talk to you.'

'Third floor, near your tower. There's a black statue guarding the door. You can use the map if you need the password.'

He pulled away, and Harry watched him go. After a moment Snape re-entered the room, looking tense.

'Very eloquent, Potter.'

'Oh, shut up,' Harry muttered, kneading his forehead. 'As if you care.'

'As a matter of fact, I do care about what happens to Draco. Therefore, while you are with him, I care about what happens to you.' Harry heard the potions cabinet's door being opened, and the _chink of a jar being singled out from among the others. 'Do you want—?'_

'No. I mean, thanks. I just want to get to sleep. Good night.'

He wandered out before Snape could reply.

~~~*~~~

            After looming for three days more, the morning of the elections dawned.  From the moment the sun's light touched Hogwarts castle, the school seemed to be bound up in a knot of tension. 

            Breakfast was an unusually quiet affair; even the first and second years, who ought to have been relatively oblivious to the importance of what was happening, seemed to have caught on. When Hermione's owl dropped the _Daily Prophet_ into her lap she stuffed the paper into her bag without even glancing at the headline, and no more was said about it.

            As the meal ended and students began to file out, an unfamiliar voice filtered through the air, magically amplified and irritatingly detached. It announced that all eligible citizens would now be able to place their vote at the nearest convenient polling booth, followed by a list of the areas at which such places were available. The voice followed the students down through the corridors, buzzing in their ears the entire way to class, and abruptly ended after mentioning that updates on the election's progress would be made each half hour.

One such update during the morning's potions class, relating Lucius Malfoy's clear initial lead, resulted in Neville exploding an attempt that had, for once, been behaving the way it was supposed to. To Snape's credit, no points were deducted—he merely threatened detention if Longbottom didn't have the mess cleared up within five minutes.

            Teachers disappeared sporadically through the day in order to vote: Profesor Binns stepped in halfway through Transfigurations so that Professor McGonagall could do so, and at lunch Harry heard from a white-faced Ginny that Peeves had spent half an hour 'covering' for Trelawney in the fourth-year Divinations class. Hermione reported that Dumbledore, while an absolute genius in some areas, was appalling at Arithmancy, and the class had wound up playing a more complex version of naughts-and-crosses to pass the time.

            Through all the chaos and minor crises it was causing in the castle, the voice returned again and again with splices of news that, put together, sounded like a bizarre horserace commentary as the candidates vied for domination. The name of Malfoy was barely ever absent from the reports; Harry supposed that he had done the best at getting people to change their minds to him. There was a period around the middle of the day during which Snape's friend seemed as if he were about to take over, which made Seamus somewhat smug, until a witch who had nothing to do with either the Order or the Death Eaters streaked ahead of both and remained in the lead for one and a half hours. She was later deposed consecutively by Malfoy and Melchior and not mentioned again.

            All in all, it was with great relief that the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins spilled out of the castle and into the grounds for their final Care of Magical Creatures class with the imps that afternoon.

            Hagrid was waiting for them, smoking pipe in one hand and umbrella in the other, and with Fang at his side. He pulled the pipe from his mouth as they reached the imps' evergreen forest.

            'We'll be headin' into the Forbidden Forest today ter let the imps go,' he said. 'Don't worry, it won't be far in, and Fang's only with us at the moment 'cos he was getting' the jitters staying inside with that ruddy voice goin' off all the time. There's been no more trouble with anything from the Forest and I've already told Firenze we're goin' in. So…yeh'd all better say goodbye to yer imps now, as it'll probably be the last time yeh see any of 'em.'

            There were fewer surreptitious grins or gleeful looks than Harry had expected to see at the prospect of finally releasing the little monsters. The class fanned out and bittersweet farewells began to be made.

            Harry caught his imp fairly easily; it seemed to sense that something was up and fought less than it usually would to escape from his hand. Hermione's, guarding the babies in the nest, was a little trickier. Between them Harry and Hermione had five sore fingers by the time they managed to wrestle her out, but she calmed down once she was perched on Hermione's shoulder and could see that nothing was going to happen to harm the nest while she was absent.

            'What do you think,' Harry said, trying to get his earlobe out of the reach of his imp's teeth; 'Are we going to miss them?'

            'I don't know,' Hermione said. Harry's hand shot out automatically to stop her imp leaping from her shoulder in a panic as she put her hand into the nest. It settled down again when she drew out the imp that possessed only one forepaw. She watched it wobble its way up her arm to its mother. 'I know there's at least one I'm not going to get out of my hair.'

            'Are you going to name it?' Harry gave up on escaping from this with his ear intact and let his imp have its nibble.

            'If you suggest anything like Stumpy, Harry, I swear I'll—'

            'You've been thinking about it, then,' he grinned.

            'A little bit. Haven't really thought of anything yet.'

            'You're not worried about Crookshanks getting to it?'

            'Crookshanks knew better than to go for Scabbers,' she said. 'He'll know better than to go for my imp, as well.'

            'Mm.' Harry turned away a little, pulling the imp from his ear. He held it between his fingers, and tried to think of something suitable to say. 'Well…I was right about you being an awful parent. You could help mum in the nest every now and again, you know.' The imp, finding itself in a position where it was unable to cause any substantial amount of pain without a likelihood of being thrown hard enough to incur some itself, responded by blowing a loud raspberry. Harry wrinkled his nose. 'Ratbag. If I hear anything about imps causing trouble in the Forest, you're going to be hearing a lot from me, right? Yeah. Apart from that, though, I guess you haven't been too bad.' He pursed his lips. 'You'll probably forget I even exist after a few days in there, won't you? Still…if you do remember, and you ever see me about, I suppose you could come down and make yourself known. If you wanted to. Just don't bite anything too hard.'

            That was answered by a wicked grin. Harry rolled his eyes, and looked about at some of the others. Seamus seemed to be having a heart-to-heart with his imp; Dean's was playing some sort of game with him. Neville didn't seem to have found his, but was bidding farewell to the tree nevertheless.

            Across the way, Draco sat at an angle to his tree, looking put-upon as he waved goodbye with both hands. An imp swung from the index finger of each one. Harry turned away, suppressing a grin.

            Hagrid called out for the nests to be dislodged from their trees and for final checks to be made that all of the babies were inside. 

As its nest was lifted from the branches, Hermione's imp scuttled inside, looking back out with wide, mistrusting eyes. Harry's was content to ride on his shoulder, nattering at the crippled imp, which had stayed where it was, although it whined occasionally for its mother. 

There were a few brief panics as double-checks failed to turn up the correct number, but eventually everything tallied up and they trooped into the Forbidden Forest behind Hagrid and Fang, keeping closer to one another the further in among the ancient trees they went.

Hagrid stopped in a small clearing that was, as he'd said, not too far into the forest, although it was far enough to make most of the class nervous, especially when the wind whispered through the trees above them. Hagrid sat down on a stump in the middle of the space, with Fang beside him.

'Well, this is it. Say whatever farewells yeh didn't get done before and then put the nests on a branch; nothing too low. Don't worry if yeh can't find a way to get it settled down firmly or if it's a little bit broken; they'll probably pile out and find somewhere higher up to build new ones after a little bit anyway. Now—'

Fang growled at a rustling among the bushes to the left, causing a stir among some of the more nervous students. In a second, Hagrid was on his feet, umbrella trained on the spot.

'Whatever's there, come ou—' he squinted, and then lowered the umbrella with an exasperated huff. 'Fer heaven's sake, Harper, yeh're supposed to be in class. Got yer N.E.W.T.s comin' up, yeh know.'

'The Bloody Baron dismissed us,' Harper said, emerging from between the trees. He strode up, pausing to scratch Fang behind the ears. The dog's tail thumped on the ground, churning snow. 'He was really at a loss trying to teach seventh-year charms. I suppose it didn't help that there were no Slytherins in the class and the Ravenclaws kept correcting him.'

'No, I suppose it didn't.' Hagrid folded his arms. 'Everyone, this is Kieran Harper. You Gryffindors probably know him, but the Slytherins might not. Yeh'll probably see him about here a bit while we're workin' with the forest creatures, although not while he's got important classes to be in, I hope.'

Harper merely looked at him, face sardonically blank.

'All right, everyone, get to work. This shouldn't take too long.' Harry heard Hagrid add, not quite in an undertone, 'Whereabouts is Firenze, then, Harper?'

'Nearby, a bit to the west. Why do you ask?'

'He always seems to be about when yeh are.' Hagrid sat back down. 'Don't suppose he's got anythin' ter say about the outcome of these elections?'

'He did say that Mars was extremely bright last night.'

The half-giant grunted. 'Centaurs say that sort of thing a lot.'

'Yes, they're wondering when someone will start paying attention.'

Hagrid's head snapped up at that, but Harper's attention was already elsewhere. Harry watched him wander off to mingle with the rest of the class without so much as looking back.

'Something wrong?' Hermione waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked.

'No, not really. I just don't like him, that's all.'

'Harper?' She followed his gaze. 'No, I don't know many people who actually do like him. No one who really knows much about him, even.'

'You've asked?'

'After the last meeting, yes. I didn't trust the way he just turned up in his Death Eater robes and turned out to be a friend.'

'No, nor did I.'

Hermione hefted the nest. 'I suppose we'd better get on with this, then. I've finished with mine; do you have anything else to say to yours?'

'I think I got it all out before we came in here. Shall we?'

They walked around the edges of the clearing for a little while looking for a suitable branch that wasn't already occupied by a nest. Harry tried to keep one eye on Harper, but he seemed to have disappeared somewhere.

'Here.' Hermione stopped and pointed overhead. Harry looked up at a broad branch above him, crisscrossed by boughs from the trees behind. 'We can wedge it between those two and it won't have a chance of falling down. Even if they're not going to be staying much longer in this nest, I'd like it to be safe while they are.'

Harry nodded. It was a stretch, but he found that he was just tall enough to reach the branches Hermione had been pointing out if he stood on his tiptoes. After a little careful fumbling, the nest was in place. He rocked back on his heels and looked up at it critically. 'Bit wonky.'

'It'll do. But—Harry—are you forgetting something?'

He shot her a blank look.

'The father.'

'What? Oh.' He plucked the imp from his shoulder and sent it flying upward with a well-aimed toss. It grasped a knothole in the branch as it went sailing by and scrambled up to the nest, jabbering insults at him.

'Miss you too.'

The crippled baby watched its father disappear into the nest and gave a shriek. It suddenly propelled itself upwards from Hermione's shoulder, left forepaw outstretched toward the branch.

Hermione's hands flashed out with uncharacteristic speed to catch it as it began to fall downward. She held it tight, rocking it gently as it began to cry. 'Sorry, little one. Not you.'

'Maybe when it's a bit older and it knows how to get about without falling over every third step,' Harry said.

'Yes, but maybe never. Poor thing.'

Hermione continued to nurse it until it quietened. She put it on her shoulder, whereupon it grabbed at a stray lock of her hair and proceeded to make a little nest for itself. 

Shortly afterward, Hagrid called for everyone to begin moving out of the forest again. He herded the class ahead of him, umbrella hooked in his belt, while Fang ran alongside him, growling half-heartedly when things moved in the undergrowth around them.

Harry caught sight of a familiar face glancing about ahead of him, and realised that Harper had materialised again. He watched him move through the crowd of students, weaving about until he reached Draco's side. Draco glared at him and moved away; Harper followed.

The pattern continued, until they reached Hagrid's hut and the class was dismissed. Abruptly, Harper broke away from the group, while Draco was the first to pass through the castle entrance. Harry frowned, and tried to follow, but he'd disappeared down a side passage before he could catch up. Shrugging, he turned away and went with Hermione up to the dormitory.

The voice made its final intrusion in the middle of dinner. The Hall went silent as it delivered its most important announcement:

'Kenneth Melchior has been elected for the position of Minister for Magic in Great Britain.'

The statement seemed somehow anticlimactic. There was still an air of expectancy in the room, only minutely dispelled by Seamus as he slouched back in his chair, muttering that the public hadn't known a good thing when they saw it.

There was a loud crackle, as if a wave of electricity had passed through the air, and a new voice began to speak. Harry recognised it as Melchior's.

'I wish to thank the citizens of the magical community for their trust in me,' Melchior said, sounding somewhat frazzled in spite of the words. Thinking of all the reporters who would be crowding around him at the moment, Harry found he couldn't blame the man. 'I will not betray it. My first priority is the safety and strength of our people.' There was a pause. 'I did, of course, have a speech prepared for this moment, but the palm cards scattered when Mr Edmund Rattleby and his associates released their report on the sabotaged figurehead from _The Pearl_ a half hour ago. I have already read through it, and there is some highly disturbing information held in those pages. 

'Ladies and gentlemen, I didn't believe it was possible, but Voldemort is very much at large. We have no choice but to meet him head-on if we wish to avert the catastrophe of fifteen years ago. To that end, from this moment onward, I declare Britain to be at war.'

Commotion erupted. It didn't matter that the voice was still speaking; all four student tables were a rabble of heated conversations and arguments. 

Seamus sat upright again, roaring, 'What? But he said he wasn't going to do that!'

'Haven't _you_ said we ought to be doing something like this?' Hermione shouted over the din. 'No more spying, no more trying to guess what You-Know-Who's going to do next, no more trying to pretend nothing's wrong!'

Harry glanced at the staff table. Dumbledore and McGonagall were nodding at each other. Trelawney looked as smug as if she'd just made an accurate prediction. Snape simply looked bored.

_Not completely unexpected, then, he thought._

He looked over at the Slytherin table and caught Draco's eye. The other boy's gaze scooted over to the doorway and back at Harry. He nodded.

'I'd say it's about time,' he said, watching Draco get up and leave from the corner of his eye. 'At least now we'll have the Aurors helping us. And look over at the teachers for a moment. They're not so surprised.'

Muttering an excuse to Hermione, he got to his feet and left the Great Hall. Draco was waiting for him outside. He beckoned and Harry fell into step beside him as he paced away down the passage.

'Where are we going?'

'Entrance. No one will be interested in going outside at this time of night. What do you think of it?'

Harry shrugged. 'It was going to come eventually. I'm a bit surprised that he declared war from the outset, though, especially since he was one of the ones saying he was against it.'

Draco smiled; it wasn't a particularly nice one. 'Lucius always said promises were just lies to give other people hope.'

Harry took his hand. 'Don't say things like that.'

Draco looked at him and his eyes softened. 'I didn't say I agreed with him.'

Harry squeezed his hand and kissed him, loving the answering pressure on his fingers.

'Shadows alone aren't good hiding places.' They jumped apart. Harper, a little way behind them, stepped forward on silent feet, darkness melting from his form as he moved into the light of a lamp. 'Unless, of course, you intend on shortly coming out of them. Perhaps you ought to get to where you're going before—'

'Go away, Harper,' Draco growled. Harry felt his arm go about his shoulders. 'Leave us alone.'

'Alone?' There was something faintly barbed in his tone, and Harry was aware of Draco going tense in response to it. He scowled.

'Get away.'

The seventh year didn't so much as take his eyes from Draco's face. 'Firenze has a message for you.' 

'What?' Draco bit out.

Harper leant forward, a small smile upon his lips, and murmured, 'You're not out of the woods yet.'


	15. Into the Woods

**Rating:** **R**

**Warnings:** If you are under fifteen years old and/or homophobic, I seriously suggest you do not read this. This chapter includes slash and coarse language.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

**Pleas:** Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

**Thanks To:** Adelina (Thank you very much! You're right, Harper's not evil. Ammoral is a better word. He does what needs to be done to get what he wants.), Ezekiel Klitiras, Silmarien, Angelina Dragonhart, Draco_Malfoy-N-Harry_Potter, Trinity, Stormy1x2, Demeter, MiaMaria, Spike, soymilk, Flair, Evil-Aurors-of-DEATH, Jo, Dancing Rain, saturn, twilights death, cattail prophetess, caz, Hannah, Anne, KL, fairy cheese, Keriana Williams, ? (I like Kieran too, although he can be a confounding, arrogant little git sometimes. Yes, Harry finds out about the kiss. Read on! Read on!), charme, claira, S. Maldiva (Non-humans don't particularly have it in for Draco, but then they don't like him very much either—in fact, a lot of them don't particularly like humans very much, and not with bad reason either. It is a shame Sirius couldn't just accept Harry and Draco as a couple—would have made things much easier for me, for a start—but he's being worked on. I'm withholding comment on Melchior at this point. I hope you like this chapter!), samson, fyre, Marie, Zephyrin (I'm pleased you like Kieran, since original characters can be difficult to pull off, and that the conversation between Dumbledore and Firenze went over all right. However, there is one point on which I have to disagree with you—that is, on whether Draco's calling Harry 'dear' is out of character or not. A few people have commented on this now, but there is a *reason* for it—just one that's not clear yet.), Hiruka and Akira, Jen, Trebor, Sal (Ron's death was anything but unnecessary; the reasons for it are just not obvious yet), Sway, Sardius-Sky, Aku-Kitsune, Michelle, futagoakuma-tenshi01, Terhi Raukko, Alex, Valerie, Lily, Erana, Loretta, Parksync, Proteus115, Sowen, CoffeeSama, Luna Rennui, Triana, Sophia, Carolyn, Kelly, Shezan, Rivers, Nisa, Mandra, Miichan, Jen Ferguson, Lucas, Amanda, Les, Serena, Sam Dyer, Kristia, and Chay.

**All Torn Down: **Into the Woods****

_Can you forgive me again?_

_I don't know what I said,_

_But I didn't mean to hurt you._

_I heard the words come out;_

_I felt that I would die._

_It hurt so much to hurt you…_

_Then you look at me_

_You're not shouting anymore:_

_You're silently broken._

_I'd give anything now_

_To kill those words for you.___

_Each time I say something I regret_

_I cry, 'I don't want to lose you!'_

_But somehow I know that _

_You will never leave me, yeah._

_'Cause you were made for me,_

_Somehow I'll make you see_

_How happy you make me._

_I can't live this life_

_Without you by my side_

_I need you to survive._

_So stay with me._

_You look in my eyes_

_And I'm screaming inside_

_That I'm sorry.___

_And you forgive me again._

_You're my one true friend,_

_And I never meant to hurt you._

—_Forgive Me_, by Evanescence

 '…You're not out of the woods yet.'

Draco felt a chill slink down his spine. The way Harper was smiling at him…

            'What does that mean?' Harry looked to him for explanation, then at Harper when Draco failed to respond. 'What are you talking about?'

            For the first time, Kieran looked directly at Harry. The smile faded fast from his face, leaving it cold and expressionless. Without a word, he turned away and retreated back to the Great Hall.

            Draco expelled a breath he hadn't been aware of inhaling. His arm tightened around Harry.

            'Let's not go outside. It'll be too cold by now anyway.' _And there'll be the __Forest__… 'Let's just find somewhere out of the way.'_

            'Draco, what's going on?'

            He tried to raise a convincing smile. 'It doesn't matter. Not everything Firenze says is urgently important. Come on.' He took a few steps away, heading back toward the heart of the castle, but stopped when Harry didn't follow. He turned. 'Harry?'

            Beyond the reach of the lamp's light, Harry's face was thrown into shadow, and he didn't move an inch towards Draco. The soft, troubled tone of his voice when he spoke was all too eloquent:

            'Tell me what's going on.'

            He bit his lip and held out his hand. 'I will. Just come with me now.'

            Draco scolded himself for the relief he felt when Harry stepped forward and took his hand. _It isn't as if he's going to disappear in a puff of smoke._

            He led Harry to the mirror-lit room, watching consternation and fear cloud his face by increasing degrees. When they'd reached the old door and Draco had ushered Harry inside, he sank into the nearest corner of the room, one that the moonlight reflected from above didn't reach. Harry remained standing, waiting for the explanation.

            'Harry, there's something that Harper…' he trailed off, stared glumly at his shoes. 'I should have told you this before. When…when Sirius was in the Hospital Wing, and you were looking in on him…Harper and I wound up alone together.'

            'Together,' Harry repeated.

            Draco looked up, swallowing. Harry's eyes already held a trace of suspicion. 'He kissed me.'

            Harry sank down, fisting his fingers on his lap. His back was ramrod straight. 'You let him?'

            'It wasn't like that.'

            'Then what was it like?' Draco flinched at the sudden savage note in Harry's voice.

            'Nothing. It—it didn't matter. I don't think it even mattered much to him, and he was the one who—' He stopped and tried again. 'It was barely anything, Harry. I mean it. And I got away from him as quickly as I could. But…he tried. And he'd seen us kissing before he did it.'

            'So, what does that mean? He's trying to get us apart?'

            'He's…waiting.' Draco leaned his head against the wall and murmured to himself, 'The hyena waits in shadows.'

            'That sounds like Firenze,' Harry murmured.

            'Hyena's what he calls Harper.'

            'Oh.' Harry leaned forward; hesitantly, he placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. 'You should tell Dumbledore. He shouldn't be allowed to molest you like that. Or Snape—he'd kill him.'

            'He didn't molest me.'

            'Then what would you call it?' Harry snapped, his fingers suddenly digging into Draco's skin so sharply it made him gasp. 'Just a friendly peck?'

            'It was nothing better or worse than what I did to you at the beginning of the year!'

            With a sudden rush of wild, inexplicable rage Draco tore Harry's hand from his shoulder and shoved him back, only scowling at Harry's soft gasp of pain as he fell back against the stone floor. Massaging his shoulder, he forced himself to look away as Harry shifted and picked himself up, desperately afraid that he would just walk out, but still too angry to say a word to stop him if he did. Silence stretched the distance between them.

'So that's still how you feel about it,' Harry said at last. He sounded as if he was struggling to keep his voice even.

'It's what it was.'

'That's not true!'

Draco fixed him with a weary look. 'You didn't want it and I forced you. It's exactly the same thing, Harry.'

Harry shook his head silently, his mouth a thin white line.

 'I'm sorry,' Draco whispered. 'I didn't know what to do.'

'Then or now?'

'Both.'

Sighing, Harry inched forward. He reached out and cupped Draco's face in his hands, but Draco twisted his head away from the kiss. Harry's lips brushed against his chin instead, and another sigh, this one of frustration, gusted down the length of his throat. Harry's hands dropped, only to wrap around his sides, and he buried his head against Draco's shoulder.

'Harry…'

'I keep trying to show you this,' Harry muttered, his voice muffled. 'I don't know when it's finally going to get through, but _I don't mind that you did what you did back then. I'm glad you did it. As for Harper…' He had to pause as Draco's arms engulfed him. '…I still think you should have told someone what happened. I wish you'd told me, but you should have told __someone.'_

'I did tell Snape.' 

Draco regretted the words the instant they were out. Harry's body stiffened against him, and in a very small voice he said, 'Why him?'

'I didn't want to worry you with that as well as…everything else. I…' _I barely had you, didn't want to lose you, didn't want to see the look on your face… 'I'm sorry.'_

'Please stop saying sorry, Draco…'

'I didn't want him to do anything about it. It was such a little thing. I'd just as soon forget about it.'

            Harry looked up at that. 'Do you think Harper will? He wants you, Draco. That's not such a little thing.'

            Draco looked at him. 'There's a big difference between wanting and having.'

            Harry relaxed, settled a little closer. 'So…what he said just then…was that a threat?'

            'I don't know.' Draco closed his eyes. 'I don't…'

_            '…I'll make your scalp red as blood, silver man…'_

            He sat up suddenly, dislodging Harry. 'I don't care about Harper,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry it happened and I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I don't _care_ about him. That's what matters, isn't it?'

            'Yeah.' Harry gave a wan smile. 'After all, he was the one kissing you, right?'

            'Right.'

            They sat in silence for a few moments, and eventually one boy's hand crept into the other's. Draco wasn't certain who had sought the contact. It didn't matter.

            'I found Sirius,' Harry said eventually.

            'Good.'

            'Mm…' Harry was shaking his head. 'I know where he is now, but I'm not sure that I feel like visiting. I'm pretty certain he doesn't want to see me.'

            'Why?'

            Harry sighed. 'When I did find him…he was fighting with Snape. He'd—I don't know; he'd pulled something you'd said completely out of proportion, was making all kind of accusations. I lost my temper. I couldn't—couldn't _believe that he'd do that behind our backs—' He broke off, by now clutching at Draco's fingers. After a moment, he relaxed his grip and muttered, 'Anyway, you get the idea. Me shouting. Sirius shouting. And Snape thrown into the mix, bloody hell. I haven't heard from him since.'_

            'Where is he?'

            Harry shook his head again. 'I don't want you going around seeing him. If he can't get his fat head around this, then—'

            'Harry—'

            'Draco…please. Let me sort it out. He's my godfather.'

            'Will you?'

            Harry sighed. 'Yeah. Just not now.'

            He kissed the crown of Harry's head. 'It'll be all right in the end.'

            'I hope so.'

            After a while, Harry shifted so that he could wrap one arm around Draco.

            '…It wasn't even a really big kiss, right? I mean, for it not to matter…'

            'No, it wasn't.'

            'Okay.'

            Something about the mood of the following silence told Draco that somehow it still wasn't. He raised his head and, watching Harry carefully, leaned forward and brushed their lips together. He held the kiss for just a few seconds before settling back again.

            'It was like that?'

            'No. He was barely touching me. And however small the thing was, it meant less.'

            Harry finally relaxed. 'That's good to know.'

            They remained there, wrapped up in each other and the darkness until the moon had passed by the mirror, and its last reflected rays had faded into the night.

~~~*~~~

            That was the longest time Harry and Draco were able to spend together for the next two weeks.

With the O.W.L.s looming on the far side of the holidays, normal school workloads increased beyond the wildest dreams of Hermione Granger, and the worst nightmares of every other fifth year at Hogwarts. Snape, followed by a few other teachers, developed a nasty habit of springing preparatory examinations in their classes. A similar pattern was emerging among the seventh years, who would soon be facing their N.E.W.T.s. Between them, the two years virtually monopolised the library.

Since the declaration of war, Dumbledore's office had become the unofficial focus of student activity; every night, as Draco made his way from the Great Hall back to his room, he encountered children en route to finding out more about the Order of the Phoenix. They usually went in small groups, often arguing over whether or not they were making the right decision up to the moment when they reached the gargoyle and realised they didn't know the password. Dumbledore must have made it a habit to appear before they gave up trying to get in, however—each time McGonagall sent out a note for the next lesson in the Great Arts, the number of students who turned up swelled. Draco found he could always pick them out of a crowd the morning afterwards: they were the ones who wandered around looking like zombies and took to using their breakfast plates as pillows.

            As quickly as the Order of the Phoenix was drawing in young blood, Kenneth Melchior was appointing Aurors. It became all too common for students, many of whom hadn't even known they had relatives connected with the Ministry, to receive letters from their parents telling of how an uncle or aunt was suddenly called into action, and not to expect word from them for a while. Draco could spot those students, too. They either spent a lot of time alone or became the centre of a gaggle of friends and hangers-on eager to know the details of the war—which was ridiculous, given the fact that most of what the Aurors were doing was secret.

They looked perpetually poised to fight or flee, and the more attention they attracted, the closer they came to doing one or the other.

Even Dumbledore's announcement one morning that classes would be cancelled on the final day of term to make way for a match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to decide the Quidditch Cup did little to relieve the tension building up within the school. The most frightening part of all was how, little by little, the whole situation became normal.

The next meeting of the Order was not announced: it didn't need to be. The word slipped from an overheard conversation between teachers no longer mindful of keeping secrets, and within a few days it had run around the school, leaping from mouth to ear and, sometimes, eye to eye. Nevertheless, when Draco stepped out of his room that night, he somehow expected the journey to Dumbledore's office to be as solitary as ever.

To begin with, he only spotted a few other students around. The first he passed was a Ravenclaw, followed by a Slytherin whom he didn't know, but who nodded as he went by, and a trio of Hufflepuffs. As he walked on, the groups appeared more frequently, and little by little they grew larger, as pairs and trios recognised each other from across the corridors and merged together. Some ignored Draco; a few smiled and called out to him, and though he smiled back, he turned away from the naïve keenness in their eyes. They seemed to regard all of this as some sort of adventure; they didn't yet fully understand what joining the Order entailed. A few months ago nor had he, and by now he had the blood of a man on his hands.

So brooding, he turned a corner, and there was the Gryffindor entourage. There were the Weasleys, with Longbottom apparently stuck to Ginny; Hermione was somewhere in the front alongside Finnigan and Thomas; and a boy Draco now knew from the midnight sessions as Colin Creevey brought up the rear. In the middle of them all, a dark head of hair that refused to sit neatly bobbed, turning this way and that to keep up with a quiet, earnest discussion that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the anticipation Draco had seen from the other cliques.

Suddenly feeling awkward, Draco slowed, keeping a distance and letting others pass by in front of him, watching as some of them attached themselves to the Gryffindors. The dark head twisted about to greet the newcomers, and then a pair of brilliant green eyes found his, and Harry smiled. Draco's heartbeat quickened, and so must his feet have; within a few strides he was on the edges of the little crowd, near enough to hear what was going on and pretend that he was one of them, even though he was still too far from Harry to reach him. The group thinned out when they reached the gargoyle and gave the password, and for a second Draco felt warm fingers reach back and twine around his own. Then someone moved between the two of them again, and the connection was lost as they were swept upstairs on a tidal swell of human bodies.

As usual, most of the teaching staff were already inside the Headmaster's office, as well as one or two of the external members. Fawkes watched the flood of entering students from atop one of Dumbledore's cabinets, and Draco thought he heard the bird give a croon that sounded suspiciously like laughter as people jostled one another, trying to locate their friends and squeeze themselves into enough of a space to breathe freely. Dumbledore watched with a small smile from behind his desk.

They waited several more minutes for stragglers to arrive, whether through the door or via Floo. Lupin appeared in the middle of the fireplace and stepped into the room; Draco saw that he was accompanied by a black dog. He looked again at the eager young faces around him, and wondered how many of them still didn't know about Sirius Black.

The dog pricked its ears toward Harry and padded a few steps toward him, but Harry saw and wriggled away through the crowd. Lupin gave a low whistle and the dog turned back with a whine and a lowered tail.

Melchior was the last to arrive; he appeared amidst the flames just as Dumbledore was beginning to speak, and edged his way into the room with a curt apology. Dumbledore simply smiled and said, 'Congratulations on your appointment, Kenneth. I daresay they are keeping you busy at the Ministry.'

'Thank you, Dumbledore.' Draco wondered whether the man even tried to keep the smugness from his voice. 'Of course, things are very busy at the moment. I was really quite lucky to get away at all.'

He turned then, to gaze appraisingly at the others in the room as if he'd just realised they were there. 'My word,' he murmured, ignoring a squeak from Fawkes on high; 'You've been rather busy yourself, haven't you…?'

'Hardly,' the Headmaster said cheerfully. 'Whether or not they join the Order is entirely the students' choice. They come to my door; I merely open it for them.' His expression abruptly turned serious. 'And when they step inside, I make sure they are well aware of the choice they are making. What news have we?'

'Largely rumour, I'm afraid. There have been sightings around the country, but generally the entire Death Eater cohort seems to be lying very low. I'm deploying Aurors to investigate wherever there _is_ a reported sighting, and also to areas that Voldemort has targeted before. We know that he wants Azkaban, but the giants are already guarding the piece of coastline that gives access to the island; I don't believe that there's any reason to waste manpower there.' Melchior sighed, and for the first time since Draco had met him, the air of smug superiority faltered long enough to give a hint of how tired he really was. 'It's not enough. We cannot predict where he will strike first, and there are so few Aurors able to move into action immediately. It's been too long. So many of them need to be re-trained…'

Moody's brusque voice issued from somewhere out of Draco's range of vision: 'It's a start. Won't take long to teach them to fight again. You don't forget too much of anything like that.'

Draco was sure he heard someone behind him snigger and mutter, 'Constant vigilance!' He gritted his teeth in irritation.

'Even so…' Melchior was saying, '…I'm beginning to be quite thankful that certain younger members defended their right to fight Voldemort at the last meeting. Once you have finished teaching them the Great Arts, Dumbledore…'

The entire teaching staff moved as one to object. The phoenix on the cabinet screeched over the noise, almost falling from his perch as he flapped his wings frantically.

'Fawkes,' Dumbledore said sharply, and somehow managed to silence the whole room with that word alone. He beckoned, and the phoenix swooped forward to settle upon his shoulder. 

Dumbledore stroked the bird's feathers lovingly and said, apparently to no one in particular, 'I'm sorry. It's near his burning time; he always becomes agitated in the days beforehand.' He transferred his gaze back to Melchior. 'I think you may have misunderstood the purpose of the extra tuition, Kenneth. The aim is to give the children the skills to defend themselves, should they ever need to. If a student wishes to become an Auror when they are of age, and after they have passed the required examinations, the training will certainly stand them in good stead. However, I am sure that it is the intention of no one here to raise an underage army.'

There was a brief, heavy silence before Melchior nodded in concession. 'Of course. I beg your pardon.'

A hand rose hesitantly into the air ahead and to the right of Draco. The body it was attached to was largely obscured by those around it, but as the person began to speak, he identified it as Dean Thomas.

'I just wanted to say…on that note, sir…' having gained the room's attention, Thomas didn't seem to know what to do with it. Dumbledore only nodded encouragingly, though, and he ploughed on. 'Um…the training. It's really good that you're doing it and all, but…a few of us have been talking, and we wondered whether you could change some things. Like, when it's held. I know it's difficult to find a good time when we can all be there, but I have to tell you, staying up that late isn't going to do much to help us pass exams. Even mock ones,' he added darkly, and there were one or two mutters of agreement. 'And it's difficult, too, to keep track of where we're at when new people keep turning up and having to be taught things the rest of us learned weeks ago. I'm pretty sure it's difficult for the teachers to be taking this on with their jobs as well. _I couldn't do it.'_

'I see,' Dumbledore said. 'May I ask how many of you constitutes 'a few'?'

Thomas raised his hand again, and several others shot up immediately around him. More rose, some with less hesitation than others, until a fair amount of the room was sprouting arms. Dumbledore nodded and they retracted themselves.

'And how do you propose this be changed?'

There was a moment of silence, perhaps brought on by the way the Headmaster was managing to look as if he were looking at them all over the top of his half-moon spectacles. Then someone blurted out:

'Wouldn't it be better if, like, you could teach us this stuff _in our classes? So that even the kids who don't want to be a part of this will know what to do if they get into trouble?'_

Dumbledore smiled. 'Minerva, I think you may be able to answer this.'

Professor McGonagall stepped forward from a corner of the room. 'It's already being done. Your Heads of House aren't oblivious to the strain this is putting on all of you, and we certainly aren't immune ourselves. Unfortunately, the current syllabus allows for little in the way of defensive magic outside of your Defence Against the Dark Arts, and teaching the Great Arts at this level is unheard of, so it is going to take a great deal of time and effort to organise. The syllabus also needs approval from both the Ministry and the school directors before it can be instated. I'm afraid little will change until next year.'

The stunned silence that followed was cut off by Seamus Finnigan's voice, flattened with the weight of incredulity:

'You're doing that _and_ teaching Transfiguration _and_ training us at night? When do you sleep?'

'You would be surprised at how often the opportunity presents itself during the day,' McGonagall replied, and something in her voice and eyes reminded Draco of her Animagus form. A cat could sleep _anywhere_.

Dumbledore was taking charge again, asking whether there were any further matters of import.

'Durmstrang,' was Professor Figg's immediate response. Dumbledore sighed.

'I'm sorry, Arabella, but there has been no further word from Oblanksovic.'

The teacher's eyes narrowed. 'One of these days he's going to get the biggest, loudest Howler he's ever laid eyes on. At mealtime. When he's trying to entertain a bunch of very important diplomats.'

'Could we push this a little more, Dumbledore?' Melchior said, frowning. 'I know I've said before that we shouldn't be bullied into dealing with Durmstrang, but it could become a very…valuable target for Voldemort. The Headmaster was a Death Eater; he may very well have divulged its whereabouts during the last war.' His tone turned thoughtful. 'What better stronghold than a school where the students come already trained in the Dark Arts, the location of which has been concealed from those who oppose him?'

'Now _there's_ a sobering point,' Remus murmured. There were grunts and mutters of agreement.

'I fear that there is little I can do other than to reiterate our willingness to cooperate when Olanksovic does,' Dumbledore said. 'Perhaps, Kenneth, if you could lend a little diplomatic weight to the matter…'

'I will. As long as Professor Figg's Howler doesn't arrive while I'm trying to convince him.'

'Thank you. Is there nothing more? In that case, good night and thank you all for coming. We will meet again in a month's time unless there is an emergency.'

Floo powder was thrown into the fire, the door was opened, and the Order of the Phoenix dispersed. Heading down the stairs, Draco heard Finnigan and Thomas deep in conversation ahead of him:

'Seemed to change his mind about a lot of things tonight, didn't he?'

'I guess the view is different from the top…'

Someone to his left was talking excitedly about the idea of becoming an Auror, whilst complaining that Dumbledore was holding them all back. He sighed and tried to gain enough space to be able to move a little faster.

At the foot of the stairs, he paused and stepped aside so that he wouldn't be in the way of the flow of bodies, trying to look nonchalant while waiting for a sight of Harry. He didn't come out with the other Gryffindors, and they didn't pause to wait for him either, although Draco thought he saw Hermione throw a puzzled look back up the stairway over her shoulder. The crowd moved on, began to thin, and eventually diminished to a trickle. Harry finally appeared among the last stragglers. He stopped beside Draco and for a moment they regarded each other awkwardly while the voices of other students sounded down the corridor—growing distant, but not yet distant enough.

'Well,' Harry said. 'That was interesting.'

Draco nodded. 'Melchior's a bit strange, isn't he?'

'Must come with the job.'

They grinned at each other. The last voice faded altogether, and Draco wrapped his arms around Harry with a happy little sigh. 'Stranger,' he teased gently. 'I missed you.'

'Likewise,' Harry whispered.

'Is there anyone left up there?'

'No one who will use the stairs.'

'Good…'

They kissed: feather-light touches that barely brought their lips together but never drew them out of contact either. Slowly the kisses deepened into something more ardent that coaxed gasps and soft moans from the both of them while Draco traced his fingers up and down Harry's spine. At length, they pulled apart, and Harry rested his head against Draco's shoulder.

'It's so nice to be able to do this in the open for once,' Harry murmured.

Draco ran his hands through Harry's hair, making it even more of a mess. Well, it wasn't as if anyone in the dormitory would be awake to see when he got back. 'Yes, it is.'

The sound of movement came from above, and they tensed, but didn't have the chance to think of stepping apart before the black dog appeared at the turn of the stairs. Looking down at them, it made a strange noise that began as a growl and wound up as a whimper. Its ears flicked uncertainly back and forth, and its tail wagged a fine line between hope and dismay.

An exasperated sigh issued from further up the stairway. 'Honestly, Sirius…'

Harry turned back to Draco and gave a small, apologetic smile. 'Too bad we couldn't have had longer.' He leaned forward and left the warmth of his lips on Draco's cheek. 'Good night.'

With that, he slipped from Draco's grasp and hurried away. Draco managed to whisper to his retreating back, ''Night, dear…'

He looked back up at the stairs, but the dog was gone. He heaved a sigh and, thrusting his hands into his robe pockets, began the walk back to his room.

When he got there, he found a note on the bed, and the unmistakable signs of a Dobby visit. He sat on the mattress and read the note by the light of his wand:

_Master Malfoy,_

_            Dobby hopps hopes that Master is well and everythigng is good with Harry Potter. Dobby would like two Sickles at end of the week and also some sok socks next time Master is in Hoggsmae Hogsmed the town will be very much apri appressi liked. Good night, sir._

_Dobby_

            Draco grinned to himself. Whoever was teaching Dobby seemed to want him to branch out from the usual 'Hello master, two Sickles, Good night' layout. He admired their dogged effort to teach the house elf proper spelling; as far as he knew, when he'd worked for his father Dobby hadn't even known what his own name looked like written down.

            He left the note on the top of the cabinet and turned the key in its lock to open it. He reached inside and almost immediately found the bottle he wanted; he took it out and placed it by the note, within easy reaching distance of the bed. Then he changed out of his robes, burrowed under the blankets, and closed his eyes.

            … …

            … … The moon looked down on Draco with cold disdain as his feet pounded against the ground and his blood pounded in his ears, though not loudly enough to keep the sound of the beast behind him from echoing inside his head. He stumbled over roots and tore his way past the twigs and thorns that grasped at him on all sides, images of its fangs sinking into his skin obscuring the path before him, but spurring him to move all the faster.

            He spotted the tree ahead of him and flung himself forward over its roots, scrabbling at them even as he collided with the earth.

            …_Oh pleasepleasepleasesomebodyhelpmeit'sgoingtogetmeidon'twantittohurt_…

            The branch overhead was scratching against his forehead as if trying to carve a scar into it. He had blood all over his hands from tearing at the roots so much, but he still couldn't get in.

            …_Father_…

            A howl rose up to the moon and he hunched forward, frantic, crying out. He dashed a hand across his eyes to stop the tears that hung there and watched a lock of his own hair fall in front of his eyes, smeared with ugly crimson.

                        …_Mother…_

            And then there was another howl, and the laugh, and the hand…

                                    …_Harry…_

            '…Red as blood, silver man…'

            … …

            … … Draco's hand swung around and picked up the bottle before he'd even opened his eyes. He opened it with a twist and flick of his thumb that would have made Flitwick proud, gulped a mouthful down, set it back on the cabinet, rolled over, and fell into the waiting arms of oblivion.

~~~*~~~

            When Draco re-emerged from his sleep, the first thing he saw was Dobby's note, still lying on the cabinet beside the potion bottle. He picked it up and read it over again, yawning, and rolled out of bed. He threw a fresh set of robes on, tugged the blankets into a crooked semblance of straight, and took his money pouch from its place inside his trunk. He had a bill to pay.

            His stomach rumbled vigorously on the way, but Draco forced himself to bypass the Great Hall and head on down to the kitchens, knowing that he probably wouldn't have a chance later in the day or even in the next week to repay Dobby.

            He reached the entrance to the kitchens and, passing through it, was unable to stifle the ravenous groan that rose to his lips. The room was practically sweating the scents of breakfast from cracks in the walls.

            The sound wasn't enough to cause the buzz of activity to halt or even really to falter, but it did catch the attention of a few of the elves nearest him, and they whistled to catch Dobby's attention. He spun around from the sink where he was scouring some of the first dirty plates of the morning and, dropping the one he'd been working on back into the suds, scooted over to Draco. Another house elf moved in to take his place almost immediately so that the rhythm of the chore wasn't disrupted.

            They moved just outside the entrance before speaking, partially so that no one else could overhear them, but also so that Winky couldn't see the money changing hands. She got very volatile about that: even Draco had once been forced to dodge her trademark wooden spoon.

            'How is Master Malfoy today?' Dobby said cheerfully, once they were out of earshot of the other elves.

            'I'm well.' Draco smiled, handing over the two Sickles straight away. 'Funny how you're always so pleased to see me on pay day.'

            The house elf beamed. 'Dobby is not happy just because of that today, sir.'

            'No?' Draco's brow rose. 'Winky?'

            'Yes!' Dobby clapped his hands, apparently delighted that his master was able to come to such an obvious conclusion. 'Last night, master, we is working together and she is saying that my writing is getting better! And she didn't even have her spoon with her, and, and—' The poor thing was jumping up and down with excitement, but abruptly he stilled and leaned forward conspiratorially. '—_and_ she said maybe I wasn't too big in my head after all, if I couldn't use all the big words like she does!'

            Draco suppressed a chuckle. Only Dobby would translate that as a compliment, but then maybe only Winky would say it as one. 

'I didn't know Winky knew how to write.'

            'Master Crouch taught Winky, sir, so that she could write down letters for him. He was saying she has ugly writing, but Dobby is not agreeing with that, sir, not at all! Winky's writing is as pretty as Winky!' Dobby faltered. 'Winky…got tears in her eyes after that. Dobby…didn't know what to do.'

            Touched by the anguish that was swiftly replacing his ebullience, Draco knelt down and said quietly, 'Then what _did_ you do?'

            'Dobby…Dobby said goodnight.' The house elf wrung his hands, the picture of misery. 'Dobby is very, very afraid of making her cry more. She is still so sad about Master Crouch. She is too loyal—even for a house elf, sir, she is much too loyal. I is wanting to make it better, but I is not understanding…'

            'Next time, don't say good night. Let her cry, but don't go away.'

            'That is not the house elf way.'

            'No. The house elf way is like the human way: pretend there isn't a problem to start with. It doesn't fix things. If you want her to like you, I think you need to show her that being different isn't always the worst thing in the world.'

            Dobby gave him a speculative look. 'Is that what Master Malfoy showed Harry Potter?'

            Draco sighed, recalling how quickly Harry had left last night after Sirius had spotted them. 'I'm not sure I have. But…doing things the normal way…doesn't work when the problems aren't normal.'

            'Dobby will remember that.'

            Draco nodded, standing up. 'I'd better get myself something to eat before the tables are cleared.'

            'There is food in the kitchen if Master Malfoy wants it.'

            A smile tugged at his lips. 'I'd like to get a glimpse of Harry, if you don't mind.'

            He turned and began to walk away, when he heard the patter of feet racing after him, and Dobby's voice calling his name. He looked around, and the house elf halted.

            'Dobby was wanting to tell you, sir,' he said, 'That Master should be careful in that room.'

            Draco frowned. 'What do you mean?'

            'Last night, while I is cleaning, I is hearing…I is _thinking I is hearing something in the shadows.'_

            'Like vermin?'

            Dobby nodded quickly. 'But when I is looking, there is nothing there. Dobby looked and looked, but there is nothing anywhere.'

            Draco relaxed. 'That's all right then, isn't it?'

            'But it is Tom Riddle's room, sir! He is in the stones!'

            'No, Dobby,' Draco said firmly. 'It's _my_ room. Riddle hasn't been inside it for half a century. He's gone. There's nothing for you to be worried about.'

            Dobby looked worried nevertheless. Draco shook his head and, turning away, muttered, 'If you don't want to clean it anymore you can just say so.'

            He barely caught the elf's feeble, 'That is not what Dobby means at all…', and walked away as if he hadn't heard a word.

            As it turned out, Harry had already left the Great Hall by the time Draco got there. He stayed just long enough to snatch some food from the Slytherin table, and resigned himself to another day of watching Harry from a distance.

             So it went: the final weeks of term whittled away, the passing days marked by furtive glances meeting across the room and stolen moments spent together in odd corners of the castle before one or the other had to leave. Always the same lingering warmth left on Draco's cheek when they parted. Always the same rueful look in Harry's eyes as he walked away.

            When Draco stepped out of his room on the final day of term and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, it was with a feeling of profound relief. He spotted Harry on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Hermione and Neville, as he sat down, and was unable to stifle the smile that rose with the thought that after this one day, most of the other students would be gone and they might be able to scrounge a decent amount of time for themselves.

            'You shouldn't stare like that if you don't want people to see.' 

Irritation flared in Draco at the sound of the voice, pitched just loudly enough to reach his ears alone, coming from behind. He hunched his shoulders and set his attention to filling the plate in front of him. 'Go away, Harper. The Gryffindor table's on the other side.'

'I always thought that was a rather stupid rule,' the other boy said, dropping into an empty chair beside Draco, utterly unconcerned by the glares that the rest of Slytherin was aiming in his direction, and beginning to pick at the food himself. 'If Dumbledore really cares so much about unity in this school, I wonder why we're not all sitting at one table?'

'That's been tradition since Hogwarts was founded,' Draco muttered. 'It's not up to Dumbledore to change it.'

'Hurts, though, doesn't it? When you really want to be on the other side…to find nothing but barriers everywhere…'

'What are you saying, Harper?'

Silence lay where the response should have been, and Draco looked up, ready to snap at Harper again to leave, but the words faded on his lips at the expression on the Gryffindor's face. Staring straight ahead, his eyes reflected a deep, embedded pain, cloaked with bitterness and an irony that Draco somehow felt were entirely directed inward. Harper must have realised he was looking, though, because his eyes shuttered immediately and with a small, nasty curl of his lip he murmured, 'You've told your darling all about me, I see.'

Draco darted a glance over to where Harry sat, and could see, even with the distance between them, the worry on his face. He gave a small, quick shake of the head, hoping to reassure him, and muttered, 'You ought to go.'

Harper shot him an amused look. 'Doesn't he trust you with me?'

Draco dropped his knife and fork on his plate, lest he give into the growing urge to stab Harper with them. '_We_ don't trust _you_,' he hissed. 'Just. Go.'

Harper didn't bat an eyelid. 'What are you doing today?'

'What does it matter to you?' Silence stretched out again, and after a moment Draco grated, 'The entire school is going to see the Quidditch match.'

'I thought you might have made other arrangements. All things considered.'

Draco sighed. 'It would seem strange to his friends if Harry didn't watch the Quidditch.'

'I'm surprised they're going at all. This game should be Gryffindor against Slytherin.'

'Neither team has enough players anymore,' Draco said, although he was impressed in spite of himself at Harper's vehemence. Perhaps he harboured some vague sense of house loyalty after all.

'Then it shouldn't be played at all. And it shouldn't be watched.'

'I take it you're not going.'

Harper smiled. 'I think I'd prefer a walk through the woods.'

Draco looked at him through narrowed eyes. 'What does that mean?'

One of Harper's brows rose. 'Just what it says.' The brow dropped abruptly to meet the other in a deep frown. 'That's another thing Dumbledore would change if he really meant everything he says. He wouldn't confine the beasts to the Forbidden Forest so easily.'

'What? That has nothing to do with Dumbledore either. They've been living there for—'

'Centuries, I know. Time out of mind. But the Forest wasn't always just a patch of woods in a school yard.' Harper finally set down his knife and fork and stood up. His eyes ran coolly around the room. 'It's about time people around Hogwarts learned what care for magical creatures really means.'

And he left. Trying to shake Harper's words from his head, Draco cast his gaze back over the Gryffindor table, but Harry was in the midst of a crowd moving toward the huge doorways at the hall's entrance, surrounded by Weasleys and with one hand resting lightly on Hermione's shoulder. Draco glanced away, only to realise that several of the Slytherins around him were watching, regarding him with definite suspicion, if not open hostility. He stood up quickly and hurried to join the crowd, all too aware of their eyes on his back.

Draco didn't try to follow or to keep up with Harry; there was no point in lurking nearby when they were going to have to sit on opposite sides of the Quidditch pitch. As he wound his way between other people, however, he noticed that the little group around Harry was huddled closer together than usual. They moved as one, as if they were marching off to war, with the rest of the throng moving around them. Harry's hand never left Hermione's shoulder.

Draco lost sight of them as he entered the pitch, where the crowds converged around the gates and the students of each house drifted toward the stands, jostling to get to the best vantage points. Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch were both standing at the gates, watching carefully, but not doing much to try to impose order. Draco hurried by before McGonagall could bestow her trademark glare upon him, and let himself be urged up to the Slytherin stands by the ebb and flow of the crowd. 

He made his way up to the highest row, where it wasn't so crowded, and perched on the end of the bench. A light, cool wind played with his hair as he looked down on the pitch. From such a distance, he couldn't make out the faces of any of the people below, and it struck him suddenly that he had not simply sat and watched a Quidditch match from the sidelines for almost two years, since the World Cup before his fourth year at Hogwarts. The realisation sent a shiver of anticipation through him, and he leaned forward, peering past the rows of benches in front, suddenly eager to see everything.

People were still finding themselves seats when Madam Hooch brought the players onto the pitch. A trio of first-years, among the last to arrive and grumbling about having to sit up so far from the game, crashed by to take up the rest of the space on the bench. The last one, who had a set of binoculars dangling from his neck, tripped over Draco's feet as he tried to push past. He twisted away as automatically as Draco put his hand out to catch him, snapping, 'I don't need your—'

He stopped when he realised who Draco was, and his expression transformed from one of affronted dignity to acute awkwardness. 'Thanks,' he muttered, and sat down with his friends, keeping as much distance between himself and Draco as possible.

Draco shrugged and turned his attention back to what was happening on the ground. The teams were in position now, facing each other down with Hooch standing between them, holding the Quaffle. She raised her whistle to her lips, and hefted the ball in one hand. The teams were on their brooms and streaking down the pitch before the whistle's ring had finished reverberating.

'It's Ravenclaw in possession to start, the Hufflepuff Chasers staying alongside, but at this point that's all they can do—oh! I tell a lie! Hufflepuff Wentworth has the Quaffle—nice snatch there—backward pass to Crofton—he fumbles it! Saved by Langley; Ravenclaw back in possession and streaking up the field—'

Draco let the commentator's voice fade into the background chorus of shouts and cheers in the stands, and simply watched the game. It was impossible to see the players' faces even now they were in the air, but he could watch every movement they made, as the Quaffle hurtled back and forth, was lost, and caught, and passed. The two Bludgers circled and twisted through the air between the players, deflected from one team to the other by the beaters, sometimes brushing a Chaser who was unable to dodge in time. The Seekers hovered well above the rest of the game, circling the pitch as they searched for the Snitch.

'—Langley dodges a Bludger sent by Hicks, darts ahead of Crofton—he shoots—'

An anticipatory cheer went up among the Ravenclaws as the Quaffle sailed through the air, and turned into a mass groan as the Hufflepuff Keeper neatly deflected the ball back to Crofton, who immediately took off for the Ravenclaw goal posts. The other Hufflepuff Chaser quickly came alongside him, and as they reached the centre of the pitch, with the Ravenclaws in hot pursuit, the Beaters joined them, fielding Bludgers as the Ravenclaw Beaters tried to slow them down.

Draco began to wish he had the chance to do this more often: he could see exactly where the strengths and weaknesses of each team lay, and how each side tried to compensate for or capitalise on them were fascinating to watch. None of the Hufflepuffs were spectacular players by themselves—merely competent—but their teamwork was outstanding. Draco knew Slytherin would never be able to play like that—they were simply too independent for it.

The Ravenclaws, on the other hand, _were good players, all of them. And they were keen on strategy, too, from the way they were using the field. The last time he'd played against them, Draco hadn't spent much time watching anyone other than Cho Chang, but now he wished he had. The Slytherins could have taken a trick or two from their bag._

The first-years beside him were passing the binoculars between them, commenting on each player as they watched, laughing at their mistakes and making some particularly snide criticisms of one of the Hufflepuffs. The chances were that none of them had so much as mounted a broom on their own until the beginning of the year, but that didn't seem to matter.

Ravenclaw succeeded in getting the Quaffle past the Hufflepuff Keeper at last, and a roar echoed around the stands. The first-years whooped and clapped wildly, and Draco found himself joining in, until he realised that they were staring at him. He reddened and settled back, although the exhilaration sweeping through him made it impossible to stifle the smile on his face.

The wind stirred again, and Draco closed his eyes, imagining that he was the one on the broomstick, weaving across the pitch, unimpeded by anyone or anything else. How long since he'd simply flown for the joy of it, without having to worry about winning or losing? 

_Far too long, he thought._

He could remember watching his father do just that years ago: not playing Quidditch and not flying anywhere in particular, just flying around the house—to see how fast he could go, how high, how many loops he could do before having to land or risk falling off in his giddiness. Draco would always plead to go up with him, and when he was seven, Lucius finally gave in.

The memory of that first flight was still sharp enough to make his heart race. He remembered the mingling of fear and excitement he'd felt as he swung his leg over the broomstick, and how tightly he'd gripped it, to keep his father from seeing how much he was shaking. Lucius laughed and adjusted his hands so that he was holding on properly. Then he mounted behind Draco and they took off.

Draco had felt as if he'd left his stomach behind on the ground, and he hunched low over the stick, his palms sweating so much that he was afraid he'd slip. Lucius leaned down over him and the broom shot forward. 

Draco had screamed, but Lucius was laughing, and at some point, his terror turned into a shriek of delight. They darted about like that for ages, Lucius showing him how leaning his body this way and that could steer the broomstick; how he could make it go slow or fast with a tiny change of position. Eventually his mother came out to tell them it was enough—they were both red in the face by then, and Draco's cheeks hurt from laughing and shouting so much—but as they neared the ground he pulled back, saying he didn't want to stop. 

Lucius had swung around immediately and pushed the broom into a steep climb, turning it again when they were as high as they'd ever gone. He leaned down so that his mouth was near Draco's ear and murmured, 'One last trick for your mother, hm?'

And they'd moved forward, accelerating until the ground was a blur beneath them. Draco could see his mother watching. He called out to her. 

And the world had tipped. His heart almost stopped as he swung upside down and lost his grip on the broomstick. For a split second he hung in midair, too terrified to make a sound, before he fell back against Lucius's chest behind him. His father pulled himself up close to the stick so that Draco could hold on again, and then they came out of the roll and landed.

Draco had rushed to his mother, determined not to let her know how scared he'd been, shouting, 'Did you see that? Did you see that?'

'Yes, I did see,' she replied, picking him up and staring at Lucius, who only smiled and kissed them both. Nothing more was said about it.

A sharp nudge in the ribs brought Draco out of his reverie. He looked about to see the first-year nearest him holding out the binoculars.

'Want to watch the game properly?'

Draco smiled gratefully and took them, ignoring the hissed, '_What are you doing?' of one of the boy's friends as he turned and stared through the lenses. He looked first at the scoreboard, and was surprised to see that both teams had accumulated several goals while he'd had his eyes closed. Ravenclaw were maintaining their lead, but not by much._

Draco focused again on the game and watched the teams' struggle for the Quaffle for a few minutes. Then, with what he hoped was subtlety, he turned his gaze towards the Gryffindor stands. It took some searching, but after a moment he was able to home in on Harry and his friends. 

He bit his lip. No one in that group looked as if they were enjoying the game anywhere near as much as he was. Hermione had her head in her hands and was refusing even to look at the players. The Weasley twins were laughing and, from the look of things, cracking jokes about the game, but even Draco could see that their smiles were fixed and their laughter too raucous to be genuine. Harry and Ginny Weasley were both trying to comfort Hermione, and Neville just sat to one side, looking awkward and forlorn. 

As Draco watched, Hermione jerked to her feet and pushed her way out of the stands, head down all the time. Ginny started after her, and the boys made to follow, but she sent them straight back to their seats before disappearing from view.

'Hey! Hey! Look at the Seekers!'

A hand yanked the binoculars from him. The first years squabbled over them briefly; it was the owner who actually got them, and he stared up at the sky with a mouth wide open. Draco followed his gaze.

The Seekers were both hurtling towards the ground—or rather, to a point just a few feet above it, where a speck of gold danced in the air. Cho Chang was ahead, but the Hufflepuff was catching up fast.

'Hufflepuff's trying for one last goal,' one of the others said, pointing further up the pitch.

'Won't do them a lick of good when Chang catches up with that Snitch.'

'What if she doesn't?' Draco murmured. The Seekers were neck and neck now.

The pair who weren't staring through the binoculars snorted. 

'Hufflepuff win? Pull the other one!'

'Bunch of Muggles on brooms!'

'—GOAL TO HUFFLEPUFF!' The commentator's voice suddenly burst out above the noise in the stands. 'The Seekers are closing in on the Snitch—it's all up to them now!'

Cho was ahead again, and picking up speed; with a few more seconds she'd have it. The Ravenclaws in the stands were on their feet and screaming.

A Bludger flashed in front of her, knocked by a Hufflepuff Beater halfway down the pitch. It didn't hit, but she jerked backward, and it was enough to let the Hufflepuff Seeker past.

'Come on,' the boy with the binoculars muttered. 'You can do better than that!'

Cho bent low over her broomstick and spurred it forward, but Draco doubted that she could catch up to the Hufflepuff in time. She was barely level with the tail end of the other Seeker's broom when he began to reach out for the Snitch.

'I don't _believe_ this!' one of the first-years cried.

'She's going to do something,' said the boy with the binoculars. 'You wait.'

Cho suddenly tucked her legs up beneath her, and shifted her body so that she was crouching forward on top of the stick, still holding it carefully aimed at the Snitch. She couldn't have maintained her balance for more than a second, but that was all it took to launch herself into the air, palm outstretched.

She connected with the Hufflepuff Seeker and the Snitch went down with them both as they tumbled onto the ground. For a few seconds they lay sprawled there, and there was absolute silence. Then Cho raised her arm.

'_RAVENCLAW WINS!_'

'Told you,' the boy said, as a roar engulfed the stands. Even most of the Hufflepuffs clapped, as Cho helped their Seeker to his feet and they shook hands. The rest of the players descended and rushed over to them; the Ravenclaws crowing over their victory, the Hufflepuffs gathering around their Seeker and clapping him on the back for having come so close. As one throng, they began to make their way back to the centre of the Quidditch pitch.

Madam Hooch came striding across the pitch to them as the hubbub began to die down. She carried the Quidditch Cup with her, and it gleamed in the sunlight as she passed it to the Ravenclaw captain, who held it high for the school to see. Another cheer rose up, somewhat less riotous than the last now that a teacher was visible on the field. Hooch shook hands with each of the winning players, the two teams did likewise, and with no more preamble than that, they began to leave.

The spectators began to follow suit. Draco worked his way down as quickly as he could, hoping to catch Harry. As luck had it, he spotted him just outside of the gates, hurrying along with the twins and Neville toward the castle. Draco pushed through the crowd toward him.

'Harry!'

Harry turned at Draco's shout and darted back to him, leaving the others staring after him.

'Sorry, Draco,' he said, when they got close. His eyes were shot through with worry and confusion. 'We've got to find Hermone. She's a mess.'

'What—'

'I don't really understand it. She just ran off somewhere, and—' He glanced back at a shout from one of the twins. 'I've got to go. I'm sorry.'

And he disappeared again. Draco heaved a little sigh.

'You miss it, don't you?' a voice said behind him. Draco turned to see Cho Chang standing a little way back giving him a lopsided look.

'Sorry?'

'Flying. Matching yourself against Harry. You miss that.' She came closer. 'Everyone knows it should have been the two of you up there today.'

'There'd have been no point. Anyway, it was a good game. That was a fantastic catch at the end, too.'

She smiled, although it wasn't a particularly happy one. 'Madam Hooch wasn't impressed. She said that if I keep falling off the broom like that, maybe I should think twice about flying at all.'

'That's hardly fair.'

She shrugged. 'She was worried I'd hurt myself, that's all. Teachers tend to get crabby when students scare them.' She added, 'Anyway, perhaps I will stop.'

'Why? You're a good Seeker.'

Her eyes danced for a moment. 'A challenge second only to Harry, right? But where's the point in still doing something when your heart's no longer in it?'

Her attention was suddenly captured by a shout from one of a cluster of Ravenclaw girls up ahead. Nodding at Draco, she ran off to join them.

Draco continued to follow the flow of the crowd, but he hesitated when he reached the castle doors. There would be all kinds of hubbub now, as the Ravenclaws celebrated their win and everyone else celebrated the end of the term, and although he was still in a relatively good mood, Draco somehow didn't feel like joining in. Perhaps he could find Harry, but at the moment he would only be able to watch him trying to comfort Hermione—or perhaps to try to help him comfort her, as he had done the morning after Ron's death. Even for Harry's sake, Draco was reluctant to do that again.

So he turned his back on Hogwarts and picked his way down to the lake instead. No one else was there. Draco sat on a rock by the water's edge, drinking in the peace. Far off, the giant squid had raised one of its tentacles out of the water. Draco waved absently, as if it would be able to see him anyway. He smiled when the tentacle swayed in the air for a moment before plopping back underwater.

_'You miss it, don't you?'_

Draco drew one of his legs up and rested his chin on his knee, mulling over what Cho had said. He thought about what it would be like to go flying with Harry, just the two of them together, sharing the sky. His eyes closed briefly as he imagined them sharing a broom, as he and his father had: Harry's warm body pressed against his, their hands brushing together, those green eyes dancing…

'I'd like that,' he whispered into the silence.

'So I see.'

Draco started, then groaned. 'What part of _go away_ don't you understand?'

Harper circled around until he was in front of Draco. The lake lapped at the heels of his boots. 'I understand perfectly, Draco. But Gryffindors are never good at following simple instructions. You of all people should know that.' He had the usual faint, arrogant smile in place. 'How was the game?'

'Fine. Good. Ravenclaw won.'

'Why isn't your darling here with you?'

'Don't call him that.'

'Why not? You probably call him something like that, don't you? Some sweet little nickname so that you can put a mark on him and tell yourself he's really yours…'

Draco snarled. He jumped up and caught Harper by the collar, his face contorted with rage, the source of which he didn't really understand, nor wished to think about. 'You have no _right—'_

He stopped. Harper was staring at him, but not with fear or anger. His expression hadn't even changed, and Draco realised with a shock that those mocking hazel eyes were daring him to do something, to throw a punch and start the fight. For a moment, he thought they were not daring so much as begging.

He released Harper with a little shove that, to his disappointment, failed to send him flailing backwards into the water. He sat back down on the rock, scowling.

'I was in a good mood until you turned up.'

'Sorry to spoil it for you.' Harper's boots squelched as he made a prudent move onto drier land.

'Then why don't you just leave me alone?'

Harper gave a smile that would almost have seemed affectionate, if his teeth didn't look so pointed. 'But Draco,' he murmured, 'isn't that the opposite of what you want?'

Draco glared. 'Remember that you said you wouldn't do anything while I'm with Harry.'

'I'm not going to do anything to you, Draco. I only came here to see the lake.' He laughed, short and sharp. 'Honestly, did you think I came _looking_ for you?'

For some reason that only made Draco angrier. He bit down on the stupid, goading words that rose to his lips and stared out across the water, trying to regain the sense of peace that Harper had destroyed.

The Gryffindor seemed content with the silence. He crouched down and picked up a couple of pebbles lying by the water's edge, but didn't throw them. He just rolled them around in his palms so that their wet undersides flashed occasionally in the sun.

'What was it like in the Forest?' Draco said at last.

'Quiet. Empty.' Harper sighed. 'He's hiding.'

'Who is?'

Harper didn't reply, just kept rolling the stones.

'Why do you spend so much time in there?' Again, no answer. Draco rolled his eyes. 'Anyone would think you wanted to become one of the beasts.'

Harper reacted at that. His hands clenched into fists around the pebbles and he bowed his head. To Draco's horror, his shoulders began to shake.

'Are you—'

Then a burst of noise erupted from Harper, and Draco realised he was laughing. He flushed, his temper rising again.

'I don't see what's so funny about it,' he snapped. 

Harper's laughter only grew louder. He dropped the stones and wrapped his arms around himself. He laughed until he was choking and gasping for air, but when Draco put a hand out to try to calm him, he jumped to his feet and staggered a few steps out of reach, stood there panting with his back to Draco for a few seconds, and began again.

It wasn't forced laughter, but it didn't sound natural either. Each puff that escaped Harper's lips put Draco in mind of an animal barking, warning everything nearby to keep out of its way.

'Have your joke, then,' he muttered uneasily, and fled with what dignity he could muster back to the castle.

Draco spent the rest of the day trying to lose himself amidst the excitement of the other students. Harry was nowhere to be found, and nor were any of his friends. Draco supposed they were in Gryffindor tower somewhere, locked away from the clamour in the rest of the castle.

Harper didn't turn up to dinner that night. Draco wasn't sure whether he ought to be relieved or worried by that. Harry did come, though, with Hermione and the others in tow, and his presence helped to restore Draco's light mood. He smiled across the room at Harry as he sat down, and for a brief instant Harry smiled back, shyly.

'If you like the Gryffindors so much, why don't you go and sit with them?' someone beside him muttered. 

Draco paid no heed. It struck him with sudden clarity that now only a matter of hours stood between them and the holidays, and the thought of all the privacy and freedom that meant made his heart soar. With most of the students gone, they need not worry so much about being seen together.

_With no one else to watch, _we may even be able to fly…__

The sound of glass breaking and the frantic flapping of wings high above shattered the thought, which had set a gentle smile tugging at his lips. The entire school looked up to the ceiling, where two birds sped downward out of the illusory sky, as shards of glass from one of the windows smashed onto the floor. The first, weaving an erratic path towards the staff table, was a huge black crow, and it held a ragged slip of paper in its beak. It was also dribbling blood from one of its wings.

Draco stiffened as he recognised the other bird, which came swooping after the other and pecked and scratched at it savagely; it was probably responsible for the gash in the crow's wing. It was a messenger owl. He could remember, not so long ago, feeding the very same bird titbits from his breakfast, or petting it as he would do his own. A string of low gasps from the Slytherins around him told him that he was not the only one who knew it.

'No…' he whispered.

With one last, vicious nip at the crow's head, the owl wheeled around and sped back through the broken window. Letting the message fall from its beak onto the staff table, the crow gave a strangled caw and toppled from the air into Dumbledore's waiting hands.

'Hagrid,' the Headmaster said quietly, though the entire school heard him. The half-giant rose from his seat and took the bird into his arms, eliciting a series of panicked caws and futile flapping.

'All righ', all right,' he murmured, cradling the crow as best he could and already heading for the doorway. 'I'm not goin' ter hurt yeh…settle down, yeh poor mad thing…'

Draco watched Dumbledore pick the note up and read it with an impassive expression. After a moment he rose and said, just as quietly, 'Minerva, Severus, please come with me. Something has happened at Azkaban.'

The three teachers hurried out of the room, leaving those remaining to stare at one another in bewildered alarm. Draco saw the group of Gryffindors around Harry bend their heads together in a brief conversation. His chair shot back on its castors at the same time as theirs did, and he was beside Seamus Finnigan as they raced after the Headmaster.

'Professor Dumbledore!' Harry shouted, as they caught sight of the teachers ahead of them, about to turn into a different corridor. All three stopped and turned at his voice. 'What happened? What's—'

The questions died before they passed his lips at the distant look on Dumbledore's face. The Headmaster took a step forward.

'Death Eaters have attacked the giants who were guarding the coast near to Azkaban,' he said. 'There was a massacre. The survivors are taking refuge at Hogwarts. We need to prepare for them.'

His voice softened a little as he went on:

'Go back to the Great Hall and finish celebrating. Go home, those of you who are leaving tomorrow, and put your hearts into the holidays. Take the time to enjoy yourselves.'

'But—'

'Enjoy yourselves,' Dumbledore said, yet more softly, 'Because it may be your last chance to do so for a very long time. If Voldemort has Azkaban, the war is likely to begin in earnest very soon.'

With that, he swept away around the corridor. Professor McGonagall and Snape followed. For a long moment, there was silence.

'Bugger that!' Seamus cried. 'What are we supposed to do, just forget about it for a couple of weeks and then come back to—to—'

'They wouldn't put them in the grounds, would they?' Neville quavered. 'They _can't_ let them stay where they might get to students…'

'Oh, shush,' Hermione said. 'Hagrid's half a giant, and he's fine.'

'Yeah, but you've never seen a real giant, have you?'

'Did you see that owl? Wonder whose it was?'

'One of the Death Eaters'…'

'It was Pansy Parkinson's,' Draco heard himself say.

The Gryffindors' faces twisted into sneers.

'Oh, _that_ cow—'

'—Always knew she was a twisted piece of work—'

'—Hope she gets kissed by a Dementor—'

'Shut up!' The stunned expressions around him echoed Draco's own disbelief at himself. But he didn't stop talking. 'What the hell do you know about it? What do you know about _her?'_

_What am I saying? She tried to manipulate me, she betrayed me…I never really liked her…_

'Malfoy—'

'She was my friend!' His voice cracked over the top of whatever Dean Thomas had begun to say. 'I knew her longer than any of you have known each other! We used to play at her house! She wasn't a bad person!'

_…Just jealous, and sycophantic, and narrow-minded, and nosy…and allied with Voldemort…_

They were all staring at him now as if he'd gone mad. He hung his head to avoid seeing their faces, still wondering where all this was coming from, why he was suddenly so furiously hurt.

'Draco…'

It was Harry's voice, hesitant and soothing, and somehow that only made Draco feel worse. His hands shook.

'If Voldemort hadn't come back…if this year hadn't happened the way it has…' He swallowed. 'We probably would have been married after we graduated. I would have. I would have married her.'

_Because it had been planned by our parents since we were about three years old, even before that day when she made those stupid flower garlands and insisted that I wear one too, and all the adults laughed at what a sweet couple we made. But also because she was the only girl I had ever really known…ever came close to liking…in that way…_

A hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing gently in comfort. He looked up into a pair of green eyes that tried to tell him that Harry understood when he couldn't possibly comprehend, that he would make everything better if he only knew how. And then Draco looked deeper, and saw the fear lurking there, saw Harry begging him to let this gesture be enough, to not force him to do anything more in front of his friends.

And in that instant, it wasn't enough. Draco closed his eyes and took the hand away from his shoulder. Harry squeezed his fingers, but Draco's barely twitched in response.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, and walked away.


End file.
